The Three of Us
by AnneWithAnEStory
Summary: Branches off from my story In The Woods When First We Met, but you don't have to read that story to get this one. Anne's been through something, but Gilbert's been there for her all along, and her family and friends know and support her too. This story is about what happens afterward. We see Anne through her pregnancy, raising her child, and her marriage to Gilbert.
1. Before

When I wrote In The Woods When First We Met, I had requests from many of my readers for the story to continue all the way up through Anne and Gilbert getting married and their life together. (What, 239 chapters weren't enough? LOL)

I _liked_ the idea of writing more about their lives together as adults, _but..._I really wanted my story just to focus on Anne's healing, since that had been the goal of the story when I wrote it.

However, now that In The Woods When First We Met is over, I am going to start this new story that branches off of that story. This one WILL go all the way up through their married life.

This story is kind of an alternate version of In The Woods-

In that story, Anne did not get pregnant.

In this story, she does.

* * *

It seems mean to make her pregnant in the story but a reader in my last story pointed out that it would be very interesting, from a writing perspective, because Anne would have some complicated feelings for a writer to explore- she doesn't want to have a baby, but because she is an orphan herself, the idea of leaving a baby as an orphan would be difficult for her, and, there is the thought that she has never before had any person on this earth she knows she is _related_ to.

* * *

If you **have** read In The Woods, let me say where this story begins. This story picks up at chapter 198 of In The Woods. Chapter 198 was called "Mother Nature Returns". To re-cap (I don't want you to feel like you need to re-read), in that chapter, Anne finally got her period and thereby knows she is not pregnant. So, obviously, since she IS pregnant in this story, then that chapter never happened. We will "begin" where chapter 198 would be. : )

* * *

Note: Cover photo of baby is from a stock photo site you're allowed to use for noncommercial use. Just wanted you to know I didn't steal someone's baby's photo. : )


	2. Spoilers

**Spoiler alert.**

My stories are LONG.

I don't want people to start reading and feel like they wasted their time, because something didn't happen how they wanted it to.

So I figured I'll be upfront about a few things, so you won't be disappointed if you don't like it.

* * *

*Anne cannot go to Queens or Redmond.

*Anne and Gilbert will get married- they do get married _young_, but not quite _this_ young- they'll get married while still in their teens, though.

*Anne and Gilbert will stay living in Avonlea.

*Gilbert's father dies in this story.

*Gilbert's father dies before he has the chance to meet Anne's baby.

*Gilbert will not be there when Anne has her baby. Gilbert won't see Anne for about two or three months after her baby's been born.

*Once the baby has been born, Anne is NOT going to have this instant feeling of falling in love with her baby. Even though she is trying to adjust to it all during the pregnancy, it's _one_ thing to adjust to the _idea_ during pregnancy, it's _another_ thing to adjust to it once it's actually _here_. Once it's been born, she needs time to figure out her feelings again.

*Anne never meets Lydia in this story. In the other story, Lydia really helped her- with her understanding of how Anne could learn to cope with what happened, and to understand that real intimacy in marriage won't be like what she experienced in the attack. So it is unfortunate she won't be able to learn that information from Lydia in this story. The difference here, is that in the other story, Anne went through a long depression which prompted the search for Lydia to come help. In this story, the focus quickly turns to Anne's pregnancy and so nobody is seeking out Lydia.


	3. Back to Normal

This chapter is where we are beginning. Some of it is taken from the previous story and altered.

* * *

When the buggy reached the school, Anne climbed down with far less hesitation than she had the previous day. But Matthew still said, "We'll wait a few minutes, Anne, to be sure he doesn't come." Then he added, "If you go inside and he's in there, you come right back out and we'll take you home."

But Billy was nowhere to be seen, and Jane and Prissy were talking by themselves at Prissy's desk. _That's good,_ Anne thought, feeling better about the day.

Anne breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Gilbert wasn't there yet. She sat down with Diana and talked as fast as she possibly could, to get all her thoughts in before the bell rang.

Gilbert slipped in only seconds later, but Anne tried not to notice him. When he finally managed to catch her eye, Anne gave him only a polite nod.

Gilbert's heart sank. What could he do? The only thing to do, he thought sadly, was to give her space. He opened his notebook and reviewed his notes from the previous day, feeling very lonely.

As Mr. Phillips called the class to attention, Anne reluctantly stopped talking to Diana and got out her work.

* * *

While Anne was in school, the Cuthbert's made their way over to the Andrews'.

Mrs. Andrews let them in, but there was a moment of awkward silence until Marilla asked, "Have you made arrangements for your son's schooling?"

Marilla really just wanted to know if Billy would be sent away to a boarding school, or if he was staying here in Avonlea.

"We have someone coming next week, we're considering engaging- excellent references, a stellar academic history…" she trailed off, already emotional. "If they work out, then it'll all be settled."

Marilla nodded. "That's good."

There was another silence.

"Is Anne…" Mrs. Andrews trailed off, shaking her head.

"What?" Marilla asked a bit more sharply than she meant to.

"Perhaps I haven't any right to ask, but I wondered how she was doing. If…if she was able to go back to school, and how her health has been…"

Marilla softened a bit. She had a very low opinion of Mrs. Andrews, simply because she was the one who had raised Billy. But she could also tell that- unlike Mr. Andrews- Mrs. Andrews seemed to be feeling a tad more contrition.

"She returned, yes, and as far as we can tell she's doing well."

There was another silence.

Marilla wanted to rub in the seriousness of what Billy had done, and said then: "She has frequent nightmares. It's been difficult to get her to sleep."

Mrs. Andrews couldn't even look up at them.

Marilla moved to the door. "We'll be going, now."

Mrs. Andrews opened the door for them.

But after Marilla stepped out, she turned back. "I am curious, Mrs. Andrews, about the sum of money your husband put in the bank. How did you arrive on such an amount?"

There was a long silence. Finally Mrs. Andrews said, "I found out what lady teachers ordinarily make in a year. And I thought about how there'd be several years she would have been teaching…"

"And you were replacing it." Marilla finished.

She didn't know what to say.

"Mrs. Andrews," Marilla said- uncomfortable now because she _wanted_ to be angry with her but it was much harder to be angry with someone who was beginning to give _in_ to you- "I appreciate how you're seeing our side of things. I know it can't be easy."

Mrs. Andrews only nodded.

After a few minutes she said, "If my husband knows you don't want it, he'll think we should take it back, but I have no intention of touching that money."


	4. School Again

Note: This chapter is mostly lifted from the old story, with a few parts cut out.

* * *

"Anne," Ruby said, pulling her. "Sit with me."

Diana frowned. "Ruby, she's sitting with _me_."

"But Josie won't sit with me anymore," Ruby said. "And I don't want her too, anyway- I'd have so much more fun with Anne. Will you write me notes like you wrote Diana?"

Diana spoke up, "She only wrote me notes because we hadn't seen each other in _ages!_ We can't _keep_ writing during class like that! We'll get in trouble. We very nearly did before!"

"But Anne, you will, won't you? You say such funny things in your notes, and school is so dreadfully boring without you," Ruby begged.

Anne laughed, happy to be fought over.

"I have to sit with Diana, Ruby, but I'll write notes to you, as long as you promise not to let Mr. Phillips catch us!"

_Anne, Moody keeps looking at me! I think he likes me!_

Anne almost giggled, but stopped herself.

_Drop something and see if he picks it up._

A few seconds later, Ruby's slate pencil rolled across the aisle.

_Eeeek! Did you see the way he JUMPED for it?!_

Anne's hand flew to her mouth so she wouldn't react.

_Yes, and Ruby, he was blushing from the tips of his ears!_

She practically heard Ruby squeal behind her. Anne glanced back and caught Ruby's sparkling eyes. _Shhh!_ She mimed. Then she wrote:

_Do you really like him, Ruby? He looks like he worships the ground you walk on!_

Ruby poked her in the back and Anne reached behind her.

_Well, he isn't Gilbert Blythe, but there's something different about him._

Anne waited for Mr. Phillips to turn his back again.

_I agree, Ruby. Wholeheartedly! There's something really sweet about him- earnest and good natured. He blends into the crowd, but perhaps that means he tries harder._

Ruby wrote,

_I don't know why I never noticed him before! Gilbert is so handsome and dashing that he blotted out every other boy, but Moody has every bit of sweetness Gil has!_

Anne was relieved to read that, and responded with:

_I think Moody will be real handsome when he grows up, too. He's just that sort of boy. Some of the most dashing gentlemen started out awkward and goofy._

Ruby gave her an angry poke in the shoulder, and her note had been scribbled in haste:

_Anne! How dare you call MY Moody awkward and goofy! He may not look like Gilbert, but he has the most precious eyes, doesn't he? And his smile positively lights him up! I can just imagine how he looks in a wedding tuxedo. Maybe he can be my escort at your wedding. I'll be your bridesmaid, Anne, and then someday when me and Moody get married, then you and Gilbert can come to OUR wedding._

Anne wanted to laugh over Ruby already moving on and hitching her wagon to Moody's star, but she had to quickly straighten up and push the note underneath her reader, since Mr. Phillips was looking at her suspiciously.

* * *

At lunchtime Josie looked at the group of them, then turned on her heel and flipped her hair, marching over to sit with some older girls. They welcomed her with sort of a disinterested greeting, and then turned to each other again. Josie's face looked tight and haughty, but Anne could tell it bothered her to be on the outside of things- she was used to being the center of a group.

After she finished eating her lunch, Josie came to her seat again- her normal spot, next to Ruby. She didn't say anything.

Anne tried to smile at her, feeling sort of bad for her. She was angry at what Josie had done to her, but after feeling on the outside edges of things for so long herself, she felt ready to forgive and forget, and be kinder to her. "I'm glad you're here, Josie. Maybe tomorrow you'll eat lunch with us?"

But Josie only looked away, staring outside through the window. Then after a moment, she said quietly: "I'm surprised they let you back in."

Anne stared at her. "Why wouldn't they?"

Ruby looked back and forth between them.

Josie watched Anne disdainfully. "Girls like you belong in a convent or something, where they can try to pray you out of your wicked ways."

Anne's eyes grew large and wounded, and she couldn't speak.

Gilbert had overheard that, being nearby, and he stepped closer. He wanted to comfort Anne, but could not touch her, and instead he said to Josie- quiet and serious- "You did a terrible thing to her, but here she is, trying to be nice to you. Maybe you should be praying over your own wicked ways."

Anne looked up at Gilbert, grateful for his defense of her, but wanting desperately to just love him every bit as much as she wanted to. She reminded herself that he needed to move on from her so that he'd be ready to find love with some other girl someday.

He looked down at her, and their eyes connected to each other's the way they so often did, seeming to lock into place. He looked like he was about to reach out and touch her hair, but he pulled away from her and went back to his seat.

The afternoon passed with both of them wanting only to be next to each other.

Late in the afternoon, right before school let out, Ruby was doodling Moody's name and her own name together with little hearts around it, when Moody tripped over a desk leg and went splat next to her. In her quickness to help him up, she dropped her notebook, and it fell open exactly to where her scribbled love note was. Moody stared at it, and Ruby blushed scarlet.

But when Mr. Phillips dismissed them, Moody asked nervously if he could walk Ruby home.

* * *

Gilbert got his things and prepared to go, thinking about how winter was coming to an end but even spring would not lift his spirits. Everything seemed dull and grey now.

He was startled to hear Anne saying "Gilbert-" and he turned around quickly, seeing her behind him.

She just looked at him with her enormous eyes, seeming as if she wanted to _say_ something, but couldn't.

"I forgot to tell you before," Gilbert spoke up in the silence. "What Miss Cuthbert sewed for you. You look pretty."

But Anne looked away then, as if something had _hurt_ her.

He felt awful. _I shouldn't have mentioned her looking pretty! What if she thinks I'm…I don't know- looking at her in a lustful way? She'll __**never**__ trust me!_

He shook his head. "Uh- _anyway_-"

Anne spoke up at the very same time: "Anyway-"

They both stopped, waiting for the other, but neither continued.

Finally Anne said, "Anyway, I wanted to thank you. For what you said. When Josie…uh…I'm glad you were there."

"No problem," Gilbert said, trying to act offhanded about it. He put his jacket on.

Anne didn't leave. She stayed, watching him, biting her lip. She was struggling. How could she keep him from ever leaving her side, but also push him to move on and not love her? She couldn't have it both ways.

Gilbert was struggling too. How could he make himself available to her, but without seeming pushy? He asked, "So…if you want to study together for the test next week, let me know, ok?"

She just nodded, but she still looked worried.

He wrongly assumed it was because of his advances, and was quick to say- "I don't think I should come unless Miss Cuthbert will stay _with_ us, though. It doesn't…it isn't…" Finally he stopped trying and said, "I don't have any interest in us being alone or anything. Just so you know."

_Good_, Anne thought- _Maybe you don't like me that way after all._

"Yeah, then," she said, shrugging. "If you want to come over today-"

"Yeah," he answered quickly, then chided himself. _Could I have sounded any more eager?_

"Wait. No, today's- today's no good. I go to Emily's Wednesdays, remember."

"Oh. Right." Gilbert looked like a deflated balloon. He wondered if Anne was really still going to Emily Perkin's house, or if she'd stopped her babysitting job once she returned to school. Maybe she didn't even do that anymore, maybe she just said it because she needed an excuse to avoid him.

Anne wanted so badly to spend the afternoon with him- and to spend _every_ afternoon with him- but she tried to sound like she didn't really care if he was there or not. _Don't give him any reason to think you're that excited to have him around. Otherwise he'll never move on to another girl! _So she said casually, "If you want to, you could come by tomorrow, maybe."

Gilbert shook his head. She didn't sound as if she wanted him around, so he thought he better not. _I don't want her feeling obligated to me. _"Uh, no- tomorrow's no good. I have plans."

"Oh," she said, holding her face very still.

"Yeah, so, I don't know- maybe we could do something sometime next week. Or not. We can just see what happens."

"Sure," she whispered. "Maybe."

She watched him walk away.


	5. Reconciled

_This part is_ _lifted from old story but altered- had to keep a few of the old chapters here because they make the new stuff make sense. _

_**If you read my old story, you don't really need this chapter, you could just skip it : )**_

* * *

"So how are you enjoying school?" Emily asked, setting the heavy iron on her ironing board.

Anne was there for the afternoon, looking after Clara while Emily did her housework. Anne was delighted that instead of taking care of the baby upstairs in the nursery, Emily had asked her to bring Clara down and sit with her while she worked.

"It's gloriously beautiful because I have my very dearest friend in the whole world there by my side all day long. And a lot of the other girls are glad I'm back, too!" Then she said quickly, "Only I'm sorry not to be of much help anymore…I feel bad that I can only come for a couple hours after school, now."

"Well, Anne, I am very happy you could go back. A young girl ought to be in school."

"Emily," she said hesitantly, lifting Clara up and holding her close. "…Do you know _why_ I wasn't going to school?"

Emily wasn't sure how much she should reveal. She said carefully, "Miss Cuthbert mentioned you'd had some trouble with a boy at school."

Anne nodded slowly.

"Is that getting better?"

Anne bit her lip. "He isn't coming to school anymore. So I guess it's all right now."

Emily was relieved. "I'm glad to hear it. So now school can be what it's supposed to be," she said, turning around the pants she was ironing.

Anne didn't answer her.

"Is something wrong?" Emily asked then, noticing Anne seemed melancholy. Anne was making a little tower out of Clara's blocks, but then she pushed it to knock it over. Clara laughed, so Anne did it again.

"Well…" Anne shifted. "There's this boy. At school."

"Another one?" Emily looked concerned. "Oh, Anne, has he done something to hurt you, too?"

"No!" Anne was quick to say. "No, he's been my...friend. A very _good_ friend. In fact, I like him a _lot_. …I even love him."

Emily smiled. "That's a nice thing, isn't it?"

She nodded, but then changed to shaking her head.

"Does he not feel the same way?" Emily guessed.

"No, he does! He says he loves me, and…he says that he doesn't even care that I-" she broke off suddenly, her face turning red.

"Doesn't care that you…?"

"Well…"

Emily stopped ironing for a moment. "Anne, I hope you feel you can talk to me- girl to girl, you know. I'm not so very old."

Anne looked surprised. "I know! That's one reason I like coming here so much. You seem almost like a friend."

"Almost!" Emily laughed. "Well I may be all of twenty, but I don't feel quite so old yet that I can't be a real friend to you. In fact, I always wanted a little sister, and you fit the bill quite nicely."

This made Anne deliriously happy.

"So about this boy you like. Or love. What seems to be the trouble?"

"I don't want him to love me."

"You don't?" Emily was surprised, but guessed that Anne's experience with the other boy had turned her away from this new one.

Anne looked uncomfortable again. She picked Clara up and hugged her.

"The thing is," she finally said. "The thing is, I can't _let_ him love me because he wants for us to be together for _real_."

"For real?"

"I mean for real- like for_ever_, like courtship and marriage and all that, and…"

"That's moving things very quickly for being just thirteen," Emily commented.

"_He's_ fifteen," Anne clarified.

"Ah, I see, fifteen, then," Emily said, trying to take her seriously when she found that statement amusing. "Well, Anne, even if you really love him, you don't need to think about courtship or marriage, do you? After all, it won't even be a possibility for many, many years."

"You got married at nineteen," Anne pointed out. "That's only six years away. And only _four_ years for _him_."

"Yes, and I was the first of my group of friends to marry," Emily told her. "My parents thought we should wait another year or two, but finally they gave us their blessing. But just because I married at nineteen doesn't mean you should. You must do things when the time is right for you, not anyone else." Emily pushed her hair back from her forehead. "But even if you _wanted_ to marry at nineteen, that's- as _you_ said- six years away! A lot can happen in six years. People change, situations change, feelings change."

"I don't know if I'll change. I hope he changes- that he'll love someone else. And maybe he's already backing away from me…I think I'm doing a good job with convincing him to." Her voice was sad.

Emily pushed the cooling off iron back onto the range, but before she pulled the next iron out to use, she asked kindly, "If you do feel that you love him, Anne, why do you want him not to love _you_? Can you tell me that?"

Anne looked at Clara. She was wearing a long peach colored dress with a white bonnet. The bonnet had lace around it. Anne thought it was pretty. She reached out to touch it, and Clara wrapped her chubby hand around Anne's finger.

"I'm afraid to get married."

"What kinds of things about marriage seem frightening?" Emily asked quietly.

Anne wasn't sure how to say it. She watched Clara roll over and grab her rattle, shaking it for a moment, before she spoke: "When you had _Clara_…"

She hesitated so long that Emily made the natural assumption that childbirth was what had frightened her. "Anne, birthing a baby isn't so bad- truly, the minute you hold your baby in your arms for the first time, all the pain is forgotten and you're much too happy to think about it."

Anne shook her head. "It isn't _that_ part of having a baby that scares me…"

"What part of it-"

"The part about how it _gets_ there," Anne interrupted, saying it all in a rush before she could stop it.

"Ah, I see…" Emily said.

"I shouldn't mention such intimate things; Marilla would be ashamed of me," she said, wiping her eyes.

Emily answered kindly, "Miss Cuthbert is a wonderful lady, but she doesn't have the _experience_ to ease your fears about certain things…"

Anne nodded. "Is it…_awful?"_

Emily laughed. "Awful isn't a word I'd use for it."

"_Horrendous_, then?" Anne tried.

"Oh, Anne, no! I meant it isn't a bad thing!"

Anne looked doubtful.

"Well, I'll tell you the truth, in the beginning I found it to be...uncomfortable. But discomfort quickly passed, and it…it actually feels quite _good_, if I'm being honest." Emily's cheeks were pink with embarrassment; this wasn't a subject normally discussed openly like this.

"It couldn't _possibly!_" Anne said firmly, shaking her head. "I don't believe it."

Emily did not know what could be said to convince her. All she could think of to say was, "I think when you _are_ finally married to a boy you love- and who loves you- then a lot of those fears will go away."

Anne remained unconvinced.

She was glad she had Emily to talk to, but their conversation had only made her even more aware of the difference between Emily's marriage and her own:

Emily had entered into marriage with no experience, and- as anyone _would_ be- she was a bit nervous to move into the unknown.

But Anne herself would enter into marriage with the knowledge that such an act had enormous potential to be painful, degrading, and terrifying- and the fear of future intimacy being _anything like_ the past, left her unwilling to take that risk.

But since Emily could be of no help to her there, she moved on to her other issue: Needing boy advice. Any young woman could probably help her out with boy advice. Tears sprang to her eyes: "But it doesn't matter anymore, because when I pushed him away I think it _worked_. He doesn't seem to _want_ to spend so much time with me anymore. And that's what I thought I _wanted_…but now I feel worse than ever! I don't want him to go _away!"_

"Then tell him that. Tell him how you feel, Anne."

She shook her head. "I can't," she said miserably. "Because then he'll want to get married and…and _everything_. And I can't _do_ that."

Emily did not want to tell Anne that Marilla shared her personal story with her. But she said, "I think you should tell him _exactly_ what you're worried about. About your fears. About everything. See what he says. It might be something you can face together. …You're still so young, Anne- it's a bit early to assume this is the boy you'll marry! But if you really _want_ him by your side, then you two have to be able to talk to each other about your feelings, don't you?"

* * *

Gilbert wanted to talk to his father about Anne- it had helped before- but his dad looked especially pale and seemed not to feel like talking, and Gilbert didn't want to trouble him.

As he lay in bed that night, he could think only of Anne.

_I messed everything up._

_If I'd never said I loved her, if I'd kept a distance, not touched her- maybe she'd still want me around._

_Things didn't have to end up this way._

_...Maybe by the time we're old enough to court, she'll have had enough time to see I'd never hurt her._

_That's a long way off, but I'm not going anywhere._

_I'll just wait._

* * *

After school the next day, Gilbert nervously approached Anne.

"Anne," he finally asked, "I wondered if you might come over after school. Not for _me_," he said quickly, "For my father. He's…not doing very well, and I thought maybe seeing you would help."

Anne looked at Diana, biting her lip.

Diana gave her a push. "She'd love to," she said for her.

Anne glared at Diana.

"You don't have to," Gilbert said. "I just thought-"

"No, I _do_ want to," Anne told him. "I just…Matthew and Marilla are picking me up again, in the buggy."

"Oh, well…"

Diana interrupted: "Good, then you won't have to walk home to ask them. How convenient."

Anne gave her a look.

But turning to Gilbert, she said, "I'll ask them."

And ask she did.

Gilbert saw her walk to their buggy, and speak to them a moment, gesturing toward the schoolhouse where Gilbert waited.

A moment later they were driving away, Anne giving a half-hearted wave.

She came back to Gilbert looking like someone about to sit for a test. She had that heartsick feeling she'd had for the past two days, and it was only made worse by being so near him.

"Well- are you ready to go?" He asked, just as uncomfortable as she was.

She only nodded.

The buggy ride felt short, mercifully, and soon they stopped in front of the Blythe's home.

Gilbert helped Anne down, wondering if it was all right to touch her, realizing with amusement that it would be awfully hard to help her out of the buggy without taking her hand.

Not that Anne needed help, of course. But it was right to offer, so offer he did.

Anne felt a flare of something akin to pain when she took his hand. It wasn't pain _exactly_ but she could not recognize the spark that seemed to fly from his hand to hers. She pulled away quickly, thinking she shouldn't have touched him- it only made letting go harder.

* * *

The house was dark and still as they entered, though she could hear the distant crackle of a dying fire in another room.

Anne walked behind Gilbert, slowly, feeling as if they were in a sort of church, quiet and somber, as he lit the lamps. She found herself saying, "I've missed him." Her voice was oddly hushed.

Gilbert turned to her, his face aglow in the lamp light while hers was half-hidden in shadow. He was so inclined to reach out to her that to avoid her was painful. "He's missed you," was all he said.

There was a moment where they seemed caught in a spell, but then Gilbert stepped back from her. "Wait here. I'll see if he's awake."

Anne looked around, and sat on the low ottoman next to Mr. Blythe's empty chair.

She could hear Gilbert in the other room, working at the fireplace to make the dying embers burn brightly, rising into flames to alight with warmth again as he spoke gently to his father. The words did not reach her ears, but the murmured voice- trying to sound comforting, trying to sound hopeful- made her think of all the times he'd spoken to her in such a voice. _No wonder he knew how to take care of me; he'd been practicing._

When Gilbert returned, she was not looking for him. She was standing at the window, the curtain drawn just slightly, casting a paleness on her already white face.

"Anne?" he asked the ghostly figure.

"It's almost gone," she said softly.

"What is?"

She turned to him. "Winter."

Then she asked, "Can I see him?"

"Come with me."

As Anne walked in, she found Mr. Blythe abandoned of all his spirit and humor. He was a still, grayish figure wrapped in white.

Anne put her hand on Gilbert's arm. "Should I be here?"

"Yes," he whispered. "We're in need of some magic."

And so Anne pulled a chair close and slipped her hand into his fathers'.

Mr. Blythe gave Anne a weak smile. "There's my girl," he said, sounding choked.

"I'm sorry you're feeling so poorly, Mr. Blythe," she said, not realizing her voice had come out in a whisper.

"I'm all right. I keep telling Gilbert not to worry-" but his cough stopped him from telling his lie.

Gilbert, next to him, rubbed his back till the coughing subsided, and then Mr. Blythe rested once more against the pillows.

"Son," Mr. Blythe said once he was able.

"What is it, dad?"

"Could you make some tea?"

"Sure- with honey?"

Mr. Blythe gave his son a smile.

"You ought to eat, dad. You didn't eat much earlier-"

He shook his head.

"But- you need to keep your strength up-"

"Some toast, then," Mr. Blythe said, only to appease him.

Gilbert lay a hand on Anne's shoulder without thinking as he went out of the room.

"Anne," his father said to her.

"Yes, Mr. Blythe?"

"You're back at school."

"Yes, sir. It's wonderful to be back, and to see my friends, and Gilbert- he's been so nice to me, for so long. You have a wonderful son."

She did not realize her eyes were brimming with unshed tears until he squeezed her hand in response to her praise.

"Are you still a voracious reader?" he asked after a moment. "Now that you've finished my stack of magazines- and memorized Walden, surely-" _she smiled at him_\- "Have you run out of things to read?"

"No," she told him. "I'm still…_voracious._" Then she shook her head and said with a laugh, "That's a new one for me- what does it _mean?"_

He strained to smile as he said: "Avid. Insatiable."

"Then, yes- I'm a voracious, insatiable, avid reader."

He was quiet a moment.

"I was thinking about you yesterday," he told her.

"Were you?"

It was a moment before he found the strength to continue.

"You mean a lot to us."

"You mean a lot to me, too," was all she could think of to say.

"I hope you always feel welcome here."

His voice seemed emptied of energy. "Mr. Blythe, I ought to let you rest..."

"I'll rest easier knowing you're here," he said. And he meant it for today, and for always.

"I'll stay."

He gave her a rare smile- one of his last few that still had the warmth of the smile he'd had in better days.

She tried to memorize his face, knowing that one warm smile would have to last her for many, many years.

"Gilbert told me you might be having a baby," he said after a moment.

"Oh- uh, well...well, I don't _know_," she said quickly, her face reddening. "I _hope_ not."

He only squeezed her hand.

There was another silence, until Anne revealed to him: "But Gilbert told me you knew, and that you _still_ said you didn't mind us...if we...well, if maybe someday we were to court."

He smiled. "No, I wouldn't mind a bit."

"That's awfully generous of you, seeing as I've gotten myself a reputation," she said reluctantly.

He shook his head a bit. "Life's too short to spend any of it worrying what other people think about you. The only thing that matters is the truth."

"The truth is I don't know what I'd do without him," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Then she looked up into his face, saying earnestly: "I haven't had a lot of happy moments, Mr. Blythe. Some of my happiest were here with _you_. And Gilbert, I...I never knew such a person could exist."

He laughed, beginning to cough.

"Oh, no-" she reacted, alarmed.

"No, no," he managed, squeezing her hand as if to reassure her. "I'm all right. Just happy."

"Happy?"

Gilbert came into the room then, with a tray balanced in one hand. Anne got up quickly to help.

He helped his father take the tea, but the toast was nibbled only because Gilbert would worry if his dad didn't manage a bite or two.

This seemed to take great effort, and when he had finished what little he would take, Gilbert helped him to lay down again.

Anne stood up.

"Mr. Blythe- I'm so happy to see you, but I really ought to go home. You need your rest."

"No-"

"_Dad_, she's right, you need-"

"I want to sleep. But _stay_."

"Me?" Anne asked.

"Please stay."

"I will," could be her only answer to the listless eyes that stared into her own.

Gilbert quietly shut the door as they slipped out, stepping silently over the threshold.

Once in the parlor, Gilbert said as they faced each other in the shadowy flickers of the dimly lit room, "I'll open the curtains so it's not so dark. And the lamp; it can be brighter."

"No," she told him, laying a hand on his arm.

"No?"

"I want us to talk-and I _need_ them."

"You need...what?"

"The shadows," she explained.

"Okay," he answered in the dark, not really understanding.

Anne's breath came out ragged. "Can we talk? ...Just you, and me, and the shadows?"

"I was hoping we could."

The lamps were low. A narrow bit of light seeped in from between the two curtains where Anne had stood, but it was an otherworldly sort of paleness, the kind that settles on the horizon in the late afternoon when the winter hasn't decided for sure if it's ready to go.

They sat down on the sofa together, only inches between them. "What do you want to talk about?" Gilbert asked softly.

It seemed they had to whisper- not only because of Gilbert's father resting in the other room, but because something about sitting together in shadowy darkness made all things hallowed.

"The only thing that matters is the truth," Anne repeated the wise words of Mr. Blythe.

"The truth?" Gilbert asked.

"I made a decision for you, about your future."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, already confused.

"I decided that you would be happier with another girl."

"But I want-"

"But it wasn't _about_ what you wanted," Anne explained. "It was about what _I _wanted: _I_ wanted for you to have a normal life. A normal, married life. And _I_ decided that you would find someone else, and so I pushed you to do that." She paused, then went on: "That's why I've been keeping you at a distance. To make it easier for you to move on."

Their faces were half hidden from each other's, but he stared at the little bit he could see- the white curve of a tender cheek.

"Move _on?"_ he whispered, incredulous. "I've found..._oxygen_. A person can't decide to stop _breathing_, can they?"

"I'm not the only girl out there, Gilbert."

"You think you're _replaceable?"_ he trailed off, the absurdness of those words hitting him. "You think there's anyone else in the world who can _be_ what you _are?"_

She did not answer him.

"I thought you didn't love me anymore," he went on. "And even then it was hard to let go- but I thought I had to."

"I'll always love you, Gilbert. I just...needed you to think I didn't, so that _you_ could step away..."

"To know that you love me- to _know_ it!" She could see him shaking his head in the darkness. "...Am I supposed to just walk away from you, _knowing_ you still love me? I _can't_. I won't."

"But you were starting to- I gave it the best effort I could and I thought what I was doing was working. You seemed so much less inclined to stay by my side, and that's what I _wanted_\- or, it's what I _thought_ I wanted."

"The only reason I put distance between us is that I thought I'd _scared_ you," he explained quietly. "I realized how I'd...taken liberties. I never _ask_ you anymore. I just reach out and hug you, or touch you, and-"

And suddenly they were together; she had lain into him, against his chest, her hair brushing his lips as she pressed her head in the space under his. It fit as if it belonged there, as if they were made that way. He felt his arms reach slowly around her.

"Thank you for thinking you should have asked- I love you for that," she said. "But you don't."

"I don't?" he asked her, his heart beating so loudly he felt sure she could hear it.

"You don't," was her reply. "I could never be afraid of you."

They sat for a long moment, each drinking in the other's embrace as if they'd been apart for a century.

Gilbert wiped his eyes, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, with the emotion of his father's decline and Anne's own glorious revelation that she did not fear him at all.

Finally Anne pulled away to sit up again, saying: "Gilbert, I have...reasons. Why I wanted you to be with someone else. I can't...be with you. In the way married couples are supposed to be together."

"Of course we can be together! There's nothing stopping us from courting or marrying if we want to!"

Gilbert was about to remind her that he did not care about what other people thought of their reputation.

But instead, he listened, and found himself surprised that she was not talking about reputation, but about something else entirely:

"No, no...that's not what I mean. I mean a...complete marriage. The way married people...the way they are together."

There was a silence; he did not realize yet what she was talking about.

"What they _do_," she pressed on when he didn't reply.

_Oh._

"You think we...can't...be together?" he asked. He did not sound angry, or upset, or disappointed. It was simply a question.

He could see her shaking her head in the dark. "And it's not that I'm afraid of you, because I'm not," she clarified. "It's just...I can't. I can't _again_. It was...it was too awful."

There was a brief silence before-

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" she spit out. "How could I marry a man and destine him to live the life of a monk?!"

Gilbert didn't know what to say. It wasn't important right now, but would it be, later? He didn't know. But he could take a guess: If it seemed almost physically impossible to avoid touching her now, how long could he go without wanting to be closer to her? He could not tell her that, though, or anything else that would make things worse. Finally he said-

"Things might change. Or...maybe they won't. But either way, Anne, let's not worry about _someday_. Why does it matter now?"

"_Because_," she said miserably. "It isn't _right!_ It isn't right to keep up this...this relationship, or whatever it is we have! This is what leads to marriage! And if I can't do _that_ with you, then we shouldn't be getting married _at all_! ...And if we can't get married then we shouldn't be carrying on this way! It's only going to make it worse when we're older and need to _separate_."

"We don't have to separate at all. We can get married whether you can do that or not."

"You don't think you'd have an easier marriage with someone else?"

"Anne, you sound as if I should settle for someone I can't possibly love as much as I love you, just because she'll do _that_ with me? ...It's you I want to be with- whether you can do that or not."

"You can't tell me it's not important," she said flatly.

He reached out and found her hand, grasping it. "Fine. Then I'll tell you it's not the- the _most_ important thing. If you can't do that, then you can't do that."

"I don't think it's right to get married to you when I already know I'm going to be the reason we can't be like normal couples." She allowed herself a brief moment of relaxing in his arms before she went on: "You're not going to be happy, and eventually you're going to resent me for it."

Gilbert could have laughed. "I'm not going to resent you. I _couldn't_. But there's no one I'd rather live side by side with, resenting."

* * *

It seemed like hours had passed, but it was not quite night yet when Anne got up to go.

Gilbert followed her out, locking his own front door because she insisted, and helped her into the buggy, no longer fearing the touch of her hand.


	6. Ambiguity

(All right, now we're to the point where the chapters are new.)

* * *

Marilla noticed that once they began keeping Anne at home so she would be away from Billy, Anne's ongoing nausea seemed to disappear. She felt such relief, attributing the nausea to the stress of having to face him every day.

And now Anne was back in school, and Billy was the one being kept at home, as it should be, and things were going well.

But her relief disappeared when the nausea returned.

It came back with a vengeance. First in the morning on a Saturday, then again just before noon.

Marilla hoped Anne just had a touch of something and whatever bug she had would get better in the next couple of days.

Sunday was the same as Saturday, and on Monday morning, Marilla said, "You'll have to stay home and let this pass."

Anne was disappointed; she'd only just begun to go to school again. But Monday afternoon, she felt fine and asked to go back. Marilla was noncommittal: "We'll see how you are in the morning."

On Tuesday morning, she threw up twice before breakfast. On Tuesday afternoon, Matthew drove her to school, because she was no longer sick, and Anne couldn't understand why Marilla was making her stay home when she felt so much better.

Wednesday through Friday, Marilla let Anne go to school, but only in the afternoons. Marilla did not tell Matthew her worry, but it began to affect her own health, too. Marilla's stress was causing her to lose sleep, to have her hips lock up and ache, and to feel her heart flutter. She tried to relax, and prayed for the Lord to grant her peace. She did not tell Anne about her worry, but she did not know that Anne was worrying, too.

While Anne remembered Mrs. Hammond's morning sickness, she wanted desperately to put that from her mind, and tried to convince herself that surely that this was not the same thing. She could go back to school, and she had friends now, and she and Gilbert had made up, and...nothing could happen now to spoil everything.

By the following Monday, Marilla could no longer pretend it might just be illness. Anne was perfectly fine the rest of the time, and had it been a stomach bug she would have been sick throughout the day. She hated to mention what that likely meant, and she didn't know how to.

She found Anne crying on Tuesday afternoon as she lay on the sofa, her math book tucked under her arm.

"What is it, Anne?" Marilla asked worriedly, coming over to sit by her.

"I know what it means. Vomiting. At school I just kept telling myself it was because I had to see Billy every day and I was so distraught. But then it got _better_. And _now_…" She started to cry again.

Marilla did not know that Anne knew about morning sickness.

But now she knew they were both on the same page, and that made it easier to address.

She said calmly, "It doesn't necessarily mean that. There could be another cause. Let's go to Dr. Carter and we'll see what he thinks."

Marilla did not know what Dr. Carter could do that would verify it, but perhaps he somehow could.

"I don't want it to be true," Anne said, wiping at her eyes.

Marilla squeezed her close. "Don't panic yet, let's wait and see."

"But Marilla," Anne said, feeling ashamed, "I've felt…tender. Where Mrs. Lynde said expecting ladies do- in my bosom."

Marilla felt fear strike her heart, but she pushed it down, resolving to take things slowly. …At the same time, she felt that pretending would not do Anne any good.

"Well, it _might_ be so, then," she said. "But if it is, it's nothing to cry over. You'll be just fine, and Matthew and I will take good care of you. Don't fret about it."

"How can I not?" Anne cried. "It'll be the end of the world!"

"No, it will not," Marilla told her firmly. "The end of the world is when Christ brings on the rapture. And you having a baby is not going to prompt that."

She smoothed Anne's hair back. "Come on, now. Sit up. Wash your face and blow your nose. We'll go right now."

* * *

Dr. Carter was unhelpful.

Anne was too embarrassed to tell him anything at all, and sat outside in the buggy.

Marilla was glad- _thank heaven for small favors,_ she thought- that Dr. Carter already knew of their predicament, so she did not have to try to explain to him why pregnancy was a possibility.

"Has she ceased to be unwell?" he asked.*****

"Ceased to be unwell?" Marilla asked, confused.

"Have her monthlies stopped?" he clarified.

Marilla nodded, after taking a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, she told me they had. I was hoping...you said that sometimes stress can cause missed times, too, so..."

"Yes, it certainly can, but now- with her nausea in the mornings...and you said she was feeling tender, as well?"

* * *

Marilla came back out to the buggy and looked up at Anne.

Anne refused to look down at her. Her arms were crossed.

"Anne," Marilla said. "Why don't you come in and talk to Dr. Carter? It might do you some good."

"The only thing that will do me good is him telling me he absolutely knows for sure- positively, without a doubt- that this isn't happening."

"I don't think _any_ of us can know anything for _sure_," Marilla said calmly. "But I think you ought to come in. You could ask questions."

Anne didn't move.

"He knows about what happened to you. He isn't going to treat you unkindly. He wants to help you, Anne."

Anne sighed. Finally she got down and went with Marilla.

Dr. Carter greeted her warmly, but she could not look him in the eye.

"Come in, come in. Sit down," Dr. Carter told her. "Would you like something to eat, Anne? Mrs. Carter left me some delicious oatmeal cookies, freshly baked."

Anne put her hand out and took one, still not looking at him. She did not eat the cookie.

"Now, Miss Cuthbert told me some of your symptoms- about your missed monthly times, and being nauseated in the mornings, and feeling some tenderness. Is there anything else we've missed?"

Anne shook her head quickly, her cheeks pink.

"Well," Dr. Carter said carefully, "I don't want to cause you undue burden, but I don't want to give you false hope, either. What you're describing _does_ sound very much like what happens to a woman when she's expecting. Yet, it's simply too early to know without a doubt, so I don't think you ought to be overly concerned yet."

Anne finally looked up at him. "How can I _not?_" she asked, near tears. Then- "There was no sense in coming here," she said, nearly crying. "I thought you could tell us something and you can't!"

Marilla was embarrassed. "Anne-" she began, flustered.

"It's all right," Dr. Carter said to Marilla. "I understand."

To Anne, he said, "I wish there was a better way. All I can go by are the symptoms you've described. The good news- if we can call it that- is that you're far enough out from the...incident, that you won't be in this limbo much longer. If you _are_ expecting, it'll soon become less ambiguous."

Anne felt worse, instead of better, when his meaning hit her: "Oh. Because I'll be _showing_."

Dr. Carter tried to be optimistic. "Or _not_ showing. If you're not showing soon, you can stop worrying about it once and for all."

Anne looked back and forth from Marilla to Dr. Carter. She wanted to feel angry- at both of them- but she couldn't. They couldn't help it that they couldn't give her better answers. Anyway, she wasn't angry with them- not really. She was angry with the world.

When Marilla took her home, she buried herself in her school work. In a world of confusion and upheaval, her school work sometimes felt like the only thing she _could_ control. So she would make the top of every list, earn every point, and lead in every subject. Sometimes, when she didn't know who she was, she knew, at least, that she was a scholar.

* * *

*_Ceased to be unwell _was a term a doctor would use, it meant that you had stopped having your period. Taken from "What To Expect When You're Expecting 100 Years Ago" by Therese Oneill, which is an article about pregnancy in past eras.


	7. Facade

The next morning, Anne woke up early, slipped quietly out of the house, and ran to the privy. She stayed until the sun came up, then she went quietly back into the house, tiptoed up to her room, and got dressed for the day.

When she came downstairs, Marilla and Matthew were at the table, breakfast ready. She knew that Marilla had told Matthew of their doctor visit the previous day, but he had not said anything to her about it.

They both greeted her as she came into the kitchen.

Anne's stomach flip-flopped at the smell of the hot gravy.

She swallowed hard. Marilla looked up at her. "Are you all right, Anne? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," Anne said brightly. She sat down at the table, still swallowing hard.

"No nausea today? I didn't hear you," Marilla commented.

Anne shook her head. "No, not today. Maybe I'm all right after all."

Matthew and Marilla exchanged a glance.

"Well, be sure to eat, then," Marilla prodded. "Nausea _can_ be caused by not eating enough, too. You know what I said about your-"

"-sugars," Anne finished for her. "I know, when you don't eat anything at all you can get shaky. I remember."

But Anne only ate half a piece of toast, and she did not spread any butter or jam on it.

"Since I'm all right now, can I go to school?" she asked anxiously.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Marilla asked, now at the sink.

Anne nodded. The entire meal she'd been trying very hard not to be sick, and she needed to leave the table because she didn't think she could take it much longer.

"I'll take you to school, Anne," Matthew said, getting up from the table.

* * *

Everyone was surprised to see Anne come in in the morning, since she'd only been attending in the afternoons for the past few days. Diana hugged her tight when she came in.

"Now we'll have time to talk before school starts!" Diana smiled.

Anne smiled back, but felt she could not truly focus on what her friend was saying.

Before lunchtime, she'd been to the bathroom twice.

* * *

At lunchtime, Anne was happy she could sit with Diana _and_ Gilbert.

Anne had told her friends that she'd been coming to school late every day because Matthew had too much work to do in the morning and didn't have time to drive her until after lunch. It wasn't the truth, but she needed an explanation for her tardiness.

When Gilbert heard this, he offered to come walk with her in the mornings again, like they used to. Anne readily accepted. Walking to school with Gilbert would make things feel normal again.

And now that Gilbert was back to school, too, maybe things would be better.

Anne had been watching anxiously for him each day, and was relieved that he had finally returned. His load seemed lighter today, and he told her that his father seemed to have come out of his bad spell and was getting his strength back.

"Oh, I'm so _glad_," Anne breathed.

Gilbert was glad, too, but he couldn't feel joyful over his father's slow return to health, because it had happened before. And he knew, from experience, that it was only a matter of time until he'd once again feel his chest tighten with the worry that this would be the end of the time on earth he'd have with his dad.

* * *

When school let out, Anne hugged Diana and went out to where Matthew was waiting with the buggy.

"Some of the other children tease me for being driven here," she told him.

"That's a shame," he said with a shake of his head. He pulled on the reins. "Hasn't got anything to do with them. They ought to let you be."

"They know what happened- everyone knows!- but they don't _understand_ it," she said with a sigh. "And some of them don't _believe_ it. ...I wish I didn't feel like I needed to be driven to school."

Anne leaned into Matthew's side for a moment. Then she said, "Gilbert offered to walk with me in the morning. Do you think we could?"

"Well, now," he began slowly, "I suppose that would be all right. ...I don't see why not, you used to walk with him every day. Ask Marilla, though."

Anne said, "He offered today, and I already said yes. ...If Marilla won't let me, I'll feel bad because he'll have walked to Green Gables in the morning for nothing."

Matthew thought. After a moment he said, "If he shows up tomorrow morning and Marilla won't let you walk with him, then I'll drive you both there."

Anne hugged his arm tight to her. "Thank you, Matthew."

* * *

That evening Anne asked if Gilbert could walk with her in the mornings like they used to.

Marilla was hesitant. Not because of Gilbert, but because of Anne's potential morning sickness.

"I don't think I'll have it anymore," Anne said, trying to sound convincing. "I was all right today, wasn't I?"

She hoped the privy hadn't smelled like sick when Marilla had gone to use it in the morning.

"No, you didn't," Marilla began. "But you might, and- oh, Anne, I just don't know."

"Let her go, Marilla," Matthew spoke up. "She knows how she feels."

Marilla looked at him. Then she said to Anne, "If you feel even the _slightest_ bit ill tomorrow morning, I don't want you to try it."

"I won't," Anne said. "I promise." She crossed her fingers behind her back.

* * *

"I'm fine- I just have to have a little _willpower_," Anne told herself the next morning. "I _won't_ be sick. I can control it."

She swallowed hard. She'd been sick three times that morning before the sun was even up, but she'd been able to hide it from Marilla.

She could see Gilbert walking toward her, and she wanted to run to meet him, but could not. She peeked into her lunch basket, where she'd hidden a sleeve of crackers. She pulled one out now, broke it in half, and put it in her mouth.

_I'll make this go away- as long as I can keep myself from feeling sick, then I won't be expecting. _She felt that that make perfect sense, and she confidently marched on.

"Hi, Gilbert," she said happily as she met up with him. "How are you? How's your dad? Is he still better?"

Gilbert smiled. "He is. He's been asking for you to come over again soon. Do you think you can?"

Anne smiled. "I just adore your father. He's a kindred spirit. He's the most _kindred_ of kindred spirits! You're so lucky he's _yours_."

Gilbert smiled, but his smile was tinged with sadness because he did not know for how long.

As they walked, Anne put her hand over her mouth.

"You all right?" Gilbert asked, after the fourth time she did this.

She nodded. She could not speak.

Gilbert stopped walking and looked at her.

"Go away," she told him hastily.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Anne could not wait for him to go away; instead, she had to. She ran and stopped a few yards away, behind a tree. Gilbert could hear her retching.

"Anne?" he asked, concerned.

She was kneeling on the ground. Her school things had come apart and rolled away. She grabbed her jar from her lunchbox and drank the milk, though it now tasted bad to her. But she had to have something to drink. She slumped against the tree and tried to find her crackers.

Gilbert came up to her and knelt down. He collected her slate, her reader, her chalk, and her various other belongings and tried to get them put back how they'd been.

"I better walk you home," he said.

"No!" Anne said quickly. "I'm not sick!"

Gilbert glanced around, biting his lip.

"I'm _not_. I just...I must not have eaten enough breakfast. Marilla told me that one day when I felt sick. She said when you don't eat anything, you can get shaky. That's all it was. I should have eaten more."

"Oh...well, can you eat _now_, d'you think?" He opened his own lunch and took out his sandwich.

Anne felt sick at the sight of the sandwich. "Put it away," she said quickly. "No. I don't need to eat. I just...need to get to school. I'll be fine once I'm at school."

Gilbert was looking at her as if he thought she was making a bad decision, but as he could not make the decision for her, he just helped her up and continued walking by her side.

The morning was hard to get through.

* * *

That evening, Anne told Matthew and Marilla all about school.

"You were all right?" Marilla asked worriedly.

Anne nodded confidently. "Absolutely. I wasn't sick once!"

And that was true. She wasn't sick once. She was sick several times.

She continued, smiling happily, "I must not be expecting after all. We don't have to worry anymore."

Marilla let a breath out. "Isn't that a relief, to go without illness. It's just one day, though. We'll have to see if it lasts."

"It will," Anne told her.


	8. Unraveled

Anne could not keep up her charade, because the next morning she tripped on the stairs in the dark- she hadn't wanted to bring a candle with her to the privy, in case Marilla or Matthew would happen to wake up early and see the light- and she went clattering down them.

Marilla and Matthew both woke up and in an instant they were there, helping her up, in a lot of confusion. Matthew got a lamp on, and Marilla looked Anne over. "What in the world were you doing?"

"I...I had to use the privy," Anne said.

Marilla just stared at her. "Why on _earth_ didn't you use your chamber pot? That's what it's there for! Do you _always_ get up in the dark like this and go out?"

Anne shook her head. "No," she tried to explain, rubbing her knee where she already felt a bruise coming. "I just did today."

Marilla said to Matthew, "I suppose we can all go back to bed, though I'm not sure we'll sleep after the fright you gave us."

"I'm sorry," Anne said in a small voice.

"It'll be light soon," Matthew said. "May as well stay up."

He went back into his room to get his clothes on so he could go out and tend to the cows.

Anne felt awful. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I didn't want to make any trouble..."

Marilla sighed. "I think I'll get some tea on. What would you like for breakfast, Anne?"

"I don't-" Anne stopped, unexpectedly- she'd had no warning- and raced for the sink.

Marilla's heart thudded.

"Go back upstairs right now," she ordered as soon as Anne was finished. "You're not going to school. I want you to get in bed and rest. You have your chamber pot if you're sick again. I'll come up in a little while."

Anne looked like she wanted to protest, but Marilla's tone of voice let her know she was not to be trifled with.

So Anne went slowly up the stairs, feeling Marilla was very angry with her.

But Marilla was not angry. She was terrified.

Feeling shaky, she lowered herself into a chair and took a few minutes just to breathe.

Then a thought occurred to her:

_If Anne **is** expecting, then perhaps that fall she took on the stairs-_

Marilla took a deep breath. _What a wicked thing to think, _she scolded herself.

Yet she was torn.

She tried desperately to put that out of her head.

_Forgive me, Lord._

* * *

Gilbert arrived in the morning to walk with Anne, but was met with Marilla at the door instead.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert, but Anne has to stay in today."

"All day?" Gilbert asked, a bit crushed. Maybe she was going to come in the afternoon, the way she had all last week? He _already_ missed her- he'd missed her since he said goodbye to her yesterday after school.

Marilla hesitated. "Yes, all day today, I think."

Gilbert nodded. "Can't say I'm surprised, after yesterday. Well, could you tell her I hope she feels better?"

Marilla started to say _Of course _but stopped herself. "What do you mean about yesterday?" she asked him.

He looked surprised. "Well, she was so sick all morning..."

"_Was_ she," was all Marilla said, her eyebrows raised.

Gilbert nodded, confused- was this new information?

He got the uncomfortable feeling that he was not supposed to have said this.

"I better go," he said quickly. "I don't want to be late. Good day, Miss Cuthbert. Please tell Anne I hope she feels better."

"Goodbye, Gilbert."


	9. Hunger

Marilla sat down on the edge of Anne's bed. Anne was curled up in a ball, facing away from the door. Marilla said, "Anne, turn around and look at me."

Anne was very slow about doing this.

Finally Marilla asked her, "Why did you lie to me?"

Anne didn't answer for a long moment.

"It wasn't a lie," she said.

Marilla just waited.

Anne sat up slowly and looked at her. "Or at least, I didn't _mean _it to be a lie. I thought...I thought that if I could _imagine _it to be true- if I could believe it very, _very _hard, then it _would _be true."

"Oh, Anne…" Marilla shook her head. "When are you going to learn that imagining something to be different than it is, isn't going to change it?"

"Right now," Anne answered.

Marilla didn't know what to say.

Anne asked, "Do I really have to stay in bed?"

"No," Marilla replied. "You can get up. I suppose Matthew can take you to school in the afternoon."

Anne was glad, but not quite. "Mr. Phillips has been giving me mean looks for coming to school late. Yesterday he said something in front of the whole class, when I walked in."

"I'll go in with you and speak to him. It'll be lunchtime, so the other children won't be listening."

Anne was terrified. "Marilla, you're not going to say anything to him- about all _this?_ Are you?"

Marilla sighed. "I'm not sure _what_ to say."

"I told the others I was late because Matthew had to drive me, and he was too busy in the mornings, so he couldn't bring me until the afternoons."

"I don't like you telling lies," Marilla began. "But seeing as I'm not sure _what _to tell him, I suppose I can agree that that would be for the best. You get up now and get ready for school. Come down and eat- if you can."

* * *

Matthew and Marilla took Anne to school at lunchtime, and Marilla went in with her. Anne felt a little embarrassed because none of the other children ever came in with their parents.

"Ah, Miss Cuthbert," Mr. Phillips said, looking at her. He glanced at Anne. He did not smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Phillips," Marilla began.

"So you _do _know it is afternoon?" Mr. Phillips asked. "I wasn't sure if you were aware of the time."

Marilla bristled. "I am well aware of the time. Unfortunately, Anne is only able to come to school in the afternoons. This is not by any fault of her own, and I would appreciate if you did not take that out on her."

Marilla thought that should be the end of the discussion.

Mr. Phillips said, "She has two legs, if I'm not mistaken. Why isn't she walking to school?"

Marilla turned to Anne. "Go on and sit with your friends. I'll just be a minute."

Anne reluctantly turned to go.

"The way I send my child to school is no one's business but my own. She will continue to be driven, or sometimes she may walk with a friend, but I never send her alone. And I find it inappropriate for you to treat her any differently than any of the other children because of it."

Mr. Phillips did not say anything else. He had heard two different accounts of what had happened those weeks ago, and he was more inclined to believe the one that painted Anne in a bad light.

"Very well," he finally. "I won't mark her down for missing half the day."

"Thank you," she said curtly, though she could hear the emphasis on _half the day_ in his voice.

Marilla slipped out of the school building without saying goodbye to Anne, as she didn't want to call any more attention to Anne having a parent come in to speak to the teacher.

* * *

Gilbert couldn't have been happier. "Miss Cuthbert said you weren't coming today," he told her. "Are you feeling any better?"

Anne nodded. "Just a touch of something. I'm all right."

There was the slightest hint of worry in Gilbert's eyes, but Anne ignored it.

She spent the rest of the afternoon lost in her reader, and was happy to see that she had gotten perfect scores on both the spelling and the geography test.

School was helping to keep the awful thoughts out of her head.

* * *

On the way home, Gilbert asked, "All the nausea- do you think it's...what you told me about before?"

Anne shook her head vigorously. "No. Absolutely not."

And she changed the subject to their geometry exam. _School, school, school_, she thought. _Just think about school._

When they arrived at Green Gables, Marilla greeted them at the door. "Gilbert, would you like to come in and visit a while?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," Gilbert said, happy to stay longer with Anne.

"I just took a pie out of the oven," Marilla told him. "Perhaps you'd like to stay for dinner and have dessert with us."

"Oh, I better not," he said regretfully with a glance at Anne. "Thank you, though."

"I understand- your father," Marilla nodded. "Why don't I go ahead and cut the pie just before you leave, so you can take a few pieces home with you?"

"I'm happy you have your old housekeeper back," Marilla told him as she peeled carrots in preparation for their dinner.

"I am, too," Gilbert admitted. "I don't worry so much while I'm at school."

Anne was happy about that, too.

"What are we having for dinner?" Anne asked curiously. For all she'd been sick before, she was now starving.

"Chicken," Marilla said.

"Oh," Anne was disappointed. "Couldn't we have beef stew instead?"

Marilla looked at her as if she was being rude. "I've already got dinner in progress, Anne- I'm not starting over to make you something else!"

Anne sighed. She knew she couldn't expect Marilla to stop her meal and change it now. But the more she thought of beef stew, the more she wanted it. The moist beef, cut into chunks, doused with gravy and floating in a heavenly, soupy mix of carrots and potatoes...

"We're having beef," Gilbert interrupted her thoughts. "Not beef stew, but-"

"Marilla, can I go to dinner at Gilbert's?" Anne said in a rush.

Marilla again looked at Anne as if she was being terribly rude. "He hasn't _asked_ you, Anne," she said.

"Of course she can-" Gilbert began.

"Of course, now that she's fished for an invitation!" Marilla interrupted. "Anne, if you want to go to Gilbert's house- and _if_ it's no trouble to Mr. Blythe or to Mrs. Kincannon- then I suppose you may, but I hope you have better manners there than you have here!"

Anne tried to look repentant, but all she could think of was dinner: "Will Mrs. Kincannon have potatoes and carrots, too?" she asked.

Marilla did not like this side of Anne.

"I _think_ so," Gilbert answered. "Usually that's how she does it..."

"I wonder if she might make _gravy..."_

Anne stopped talking when she caught Marilla's exasperated expression. "I'm sure whatever she makes will be delicious," she said sweetly, looking at Marilla, but it was plain to see her thoughts were on dinner and nothing else.

"Why don't you two sit down and work on your homework?" Marilla asked, shaking her head at Anne's rudeness.

Gilbert tried not to laugh.

* * *

They'd only worked for half an hour when Anne said, "Maybe Mrs. Kincannon will have dinner ready _early. _Maybe we should go to your house _sooner_. She might have finished early. She might even be done right _now_."

"I doubt it," Gilbert said, "Usually we eat at about six."

Anne looked at the clock. It seemed it would be _ages_ before six o'clock.

She went back to her writing, but Gilbert saw her checking the time every few minutes. The hands were moving too slowly.

"You must be really hungry," he said with a laugh. "Do you want to go ahead and eat something now to tide you over?"

Anne shook her head. "No, I'm only hungry for beef stew." Then she corrected herself, "I mean, for however Mrs. Kincannon makes it."

"Well, since you've got beef on the brain, maybe we ought to just go on over to my house anyway. You won't get any work done if you're that hungry. ...The food won't be ready, but I suppose you can smell it cooking."

Anne liked the idea of smelling it cooking. She got ready to go quickly.

The drive felt very long to Anne.

* * *

While Anne was away, Rachel Lynde came over. She stayed until Matthew came in for the evening.

When Rachel was gone, Marilla and Matthew sat down to eat.

"Where's Anne?" Matthew asked.

"She went off with Gilbert," Marilla told him. "My dinner selection didn't meet with her approval."

Matthew was amused by this.

"She bordered on rude, Matthew, and I wasn't happy with her," Marilla said. "She was practically drooling. She all but invited herself over to the Blythe's house! ...Perhaps I shouldn't have allowed her to go. It wasn't very polite of _me_, to let her go without Gilbert asking Mrs. Kincannon first."

"I'm sure it'll be all right," Matthew said.

"I'm not sure _we'll_ be all right," Marilla told him. "I told Rachel about Anne, and when I told her what happened here, she said if Anne's developing a morbid appetite, it's almost certain she's expecting."

Matthew was quiet a moment. Then he said, "We still can't know for _sure_, though?"

Marilla shook her head. "Dr. Carter said if she _is_, she'll start showing after a fashion, but we don't even know when that will be- Rachel said a first pregnancy takes longer to show than subsequent ones, and she also said that the thinner you are, the longer it takes to show. Anne's such a wisp, it could go on for quite a long time before she shows. ...But all the other signs are there, it seems."

They were both quiet.


	10. One Thing at a Time

After a big evening of eating, Anne was brought back to Green Gables stuffed to the brim with potatoes, carrots, gravy, and beef. Marilla had sent the whole pie over with Anne- to make up for the rudeness of showing up for dinner without having asked Mrs. Kincannon first- but Anne had eaten more than her fair share of pie, too.

"Aah," Anne sighed happily, leaning back in the buggy. "That was the best dinner I've ever had. It was a work of art. A marvelous, mouth-watering, _delectable _work of art."

Gilbert smiled. "I'll let Mrs. Kincannon know. Not that she'll be wondering."

"Did I eat too much?" Anne asked, suddenly sitting up straight. "I hope I didn't make a bad impression."

"No, she seemed happy you were so enthusiastic about her cooking."

They pulled up to the house, and Gilbert got down to help Anne out of the buggy.

He said, "So now that I know beef is the way to your heart, I'll have to try to get Mrs. Kincannon to make it more often."

Anne hugged him goodbye.

"You want me to come walk with you in the morning?" he asked.

Anne paused.

"Yes," she said with a smile.

She was going to attend school in the morning. She was sure she wouldn't get sick anymore, because how could anyone feel nauseous _and _have such a good appetite?

In the morning, she was sick only once, and got ready for school intending to meet Gilbert. Marilla at first told her "afternoons only", but Anne convinced her by saying, "Marilla, I don't feel sick right now- I'm telling the truth this time!- and the thing of it is, I can tell now when I'm going to be sick. It isn't so _sudden _anymore. So I'll have enough time to raise my hand and ask to go to the privy."

"Well…" she looked out the window at Gilbert coming up the porch steps. "All right. If you think you really have enough time to _ask_. ...I just don't want you to have any accidents, is all. It would embarrass you to be sick in the classroom."

* * *

When Anne was walking home from school, she and Gilbert walked by Mrs. Lynde, just coming from Green Gables, with her nose in the air. They both greeted her, but Mrs. Lynde's face was tight and offended.

When the two got into the house and shut the door, Anne put her things away while saying, "Mrs. Lynde seemed especially prickly when we passed her coming home, Marilla."

Marilla was putting books back into a brown package.

Anne came over to her quickly. "Ooh, Marilla, did you order books?!" She bounced excitedly around her, trying to see them.

Marilla shut the lid firmly. "I did. But they're for grown-ups."

Anne was not going to be dissuaded from seeing new books. "Couldn't I read them anyway? If there are words I don't know yet, I'm sure I can figure them out. I'd love to collect some new words-_please?"_

Marilla looked at her, then at Gilbert. "We'll look at them later, Anne."

"Why was Mrs. Lynde so upset?" Anne wanted to know, giving up on the books.

"She felt that I was not relying on her expert wisdom," Marilla said with a sigh. "Anyway, you and Gilbert go sit in the parlor now."

* * *

When Gilbert had gone, Anne asked again about the books. Marilla sat down at the kitchen table. She drew Anne close. "I'll show you the books in a moment. First, we must talk."

Anne felt a pit in her stomach.

"I think at this point, we must go under the assumption that you _are _expecting," Marilla began.

"But I might not-" Anne protested.

Marilla cut her off. "If you are not, it will be a happy surprise. But I think we have seen enough to assume that you likely are, and so we must accept that."

Anne did not want to accept that.

"I ordered a few books on the subject. To make sure I'm doing the right things to take good care of you."

Marilla took out the first book. The cover said, _Ladies' Guide in Health and Disease_ _by Dr. John Kellogg. _"This one isn't _just _about pregnancy, but the excerpts I read in the catalog seemed to have a lot of information about it, so I thought it was a good place to start. I'm glad you like to read, because I think you ought to read them, too."

Anne shook her head, backing up from Marilla. "No. No, I don't want to read those," she said.

Marilla looked at her a moment, then sighed and set the book back on the table. "Perhaps you'll feel differently later. Anyway, as I said, we must _assume_. How were you today- were you able to go to the privy?"

"Yes," Anne said reluctantly. "Mr. Phillips let me go every time I raised my hand. He didn't say anything to me. And I had plenty of time to go out there before it came."

"That's a relief," Marilla breathed.

Anne didn't want to think about any of that, so she asked, "What did you mean about Mrs. Lynde? That you weren't taking her advice?"

"She's had ten children and was offended that I sought the advice of medical doctors I've never heard of, when _she's _so close by to tell me all I need to know!"

Anne couldn't help smiling at this. But then she felt unhappy. _She's had ten children..._Anne was now used to hearing _expecting _being discussed. But to her, _expecting _only meant things about _herself- _getting sick in the mornings, and knowing her stomach would eventually begin to expand. The idea of _children _at the end of all that had been pushed out of her mind. Now she was reminded that 'expecting' _also_ meant eventually there was going to be a baby.

She felt she might cry, and as tears sprang to her eyes, Marilla softened. "Oh, Anne, I'm sure Rachel won't stay angry at me for long. It isn't a disagreement _you _caused, darling."

Anne shook her head. She hastily wiped her eyes. "Marilla, this isn't _fair_. What am I going to do?"

Marilla's eyes softened. "You don't have to do anything. Just take care of yourself, is all. And listen to what Matthew and I tell you."

"But what will I do about _school?"_ she asked.

"Don't tell anyone at school," Marilla told her. "There's no reason for anyone to know, not at this point. Rachel says it'll likely be a while before anything shows, so you may as well continue with your schooling as planned."

"Eventually I'll have to stop, because- oh, no, everyone will _see_ me! I'll just keep getting bigger and bigger, and everyone will know!" Anne's imagination went wild with disapproving looks from passersby and gossip whispered when her back was turned.

"But you'll stop going before it becomes plain to see," Marilla told her.

"And _then_ what?" Anne asked, sounding very small and very lost.

Marilla held her close again. "Let's just take one thing at a time."


	11. Acceptance

"You said it takes forty weeks?"

"Yes, about."

Marilla sighed. "We've still got quite a ways to go, then. It seems much longer when you look at it in terms of weeks! ...That puts us at the end of August."

Rachel shook her head. "My, I don't envy her. August is the worst time to be in your ninth month!" Then, seeing Marilla's face, she added, "She's young. She might deliver early."

"Is that safe- to deliver early?" Marilla asked her.

Rachel didn't say anything for a moment, then she said "None of it is safe."

Marilla rubbed her eyes and set the book down. Her headaches had gotten worse recently. She was glad Rachel had quickly gotten over her offense at Marilla consulting medical volumes. Rachel _still _thought _she_ knew more about all this than any doctor did, but she was willing to look at the books with Marilla.

"How's Anne doing with the news?" Rachel asked kindly.

Marilla shook her head. "She'd like to pretend it isn't happening, and I can't say I blame her. _I'd_ like to pretend it isn't happening! But this is the truth we've got to face. Anne will have to accept it before long."

"Have you thought anything about what to do once she's delivered?" Rachel wanted to know.

"Not at all," Marilla answered. "It seems enough adjustment just to get used to the idea of...of _expecting_...at all! I doubt we'll think of anything beyond that for a while yet."

Rachel nodded. "I don't suppose she'll want to give it up," she commented, doubtfully. "Though heaven knows her life would be easier if she did."

Marilla was surprised. "You don't think she'd want to?"

"No," Rachel said, equally surprised. "Being an orphan. _She _knows what orphan's homes are like."

Marilla sighed. "I was thinking just the opposite. I thought she'd be glad to be rid of it. She's so unhappy..."

"What do _you _think?" Rachel wanted to know.

"When I realized this was a possibility, I just thought, here we are with _another _child to raise!" Marilla told her. "I just assumed it was here to stay. But I never thought of what we'd do if Anne was so decidedly _against _us keeping it."

"I'd expect her feelings to go back and forth," Rachel advised. "After all, it's so complicated a situation."

"I really don't _want_ her to make a decision," Marilla thought of. "I don't feel she can make choices like that in advance- she doesn't know yet how she'll feel once it's here."

* * *

Anne had stayed at Gilbert's house for dinner again, because Gilbert had asked Mrs. Kincannon if she would mind making beef stew.

Anne was more hungry than she was polite, and Gilbert watched with amusement as she finished her third bowl of stew.

"I made snickerdoodles," Mrs. Kincannon said, smiling. "That is, if you still have room."

"Oh, yes," Anne said. "I just love snickerdoodles. They make me think of snow. But not _December _snow. They make me think of snow in March, when it's starting to be just the slightest bit warm, and the wind blows. The sugar part is the bit of leftover snow, and I imagine the cinnamon to be like a _gust_ of springtime wind!"

Gilbert smiled as Anne took three cookies.

Mr. Blythe laughed as he often did at Anne's musings, but it was never a teasing sort of laugh. He was delighted with her.

"I wish it was feeling more like springtime now," he said. "But we're in for a short winter, so it's likely almost over."

"That's what the Farmer's Almanac said," Gilbert agreed.

"I can't _wait _for spring!" Anne sighed, thinking of the blossoms and the fields of green that were only a few months away. But then she remembered her current predicament, and her face clouded over.

Both men noticed.

"Something wrong, Anne?" Mr. Blythe asked.

"No," she said quickly, giving him a smile. "These cookies are delicious."

She looked at the plate. "I'm sorry. I've eaten too much."

"I'm glad," Gilbert told her. "You went so long hardly eating a thing."

Mr. Blythe said, "Does my heart good to see you feeling so much better."

Anne pushed the plate away slightly, her appetite gone.

* * *

When she came home, Rachel was just leaving. Anne said hello to her and went past her into the house.

"I'm glad you're back together with your bosom friend," Anne said happily.

"Me too," Marilla answered, smiling at Anne. Then she said, "Did you have a nice supper at the Blythes'?"

"I sure did," Anne said, but then she frowned. She did not want to think of the ill Mr. Blythe having to hear about her hardships- and what kind of ridicule his son might face because of her.

"What is it?" Marilla asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"I don't feel well," Anne said.

Marilla, worried, came right over to Anne, arms outstretched. She felt Anne's forehead. "You don't have a fever. But maybe we'd better go see Dr. Carter. I'll get Matthew."

"No," Anne said. "I don't need to go to the doctor. I just want to lay down."

Marilla nodded. "Why don't you lie on the sofa? Would you like me to read to you?"

Anne shook her head, not looking at Marilla. She didn't think there was anything wrong, at least not physically. ...She just felt too disheartened to do anything but lay on the sofa.

Marilla watched, worried, as Anne pulled her boots off and slowly sat down.

"Are you sure about not needing the doctor?" Marilla asked again.

Anne looked up at Marilla. She did not want to think of what was happening, and she was content to push it out of her mind and _pretend_...but Marilla was so concerned, so attentive. She was reminded of how she'd thought Marilla would put her out once she knew her secret. Yet here was Marilla- stern, _critical _Marilla!- _not _criticizing her, _not _being harsh with her, despite all the trouble she was bringing into their lives. She glanced at the stack of books still on the table. Books _she _hadn't wanted to read, but that Marilla would read _for _her.

Anne got back up and went over to Marilla.

"Marilla..." she said, looking up at the worry-creased face above her.

"Hmm?" Marilla asked.

For all her hard edges, Anne considered Marilla to be a soft place to land. She leaned into her then, comforted by the heartbeat she heard through the faded cotton, and aged, work-worn hands that still smelled of dish soap.

Marilla brought her arms around her, and the strength in her arms made Anne feel that she _might_ be strong enough herself to face what had to be.

"I have to have a _baby_," Anne whispered against Marilla. Her voice came out so softly that Marilla could scarcely hear her.

"Yes..." Marilla agreed gently.

"...You said it wouldn't be the end of the world."

"It _won't_ be," Marilla promised, holding her closer.

Anne was quiet a moment. Then she said, "I love you, Marilla."

"I love you, too, dear."


	12. To Tell

Now that Anne knew she could not imagine the baby away- though once in a while, she would try- she began to try to have a stronger will. _This is going to happen,_ she thought, _So as miserable as it is, I'll try to be brave._

Anne still did not want to read the books Marilla bought, though. She knew Marilla was reading them, but Anne always managed to find something else to do whenever Marilla suggested she read some for herself.

In the morning as Anne was getting ready to leave the house, Marilla said, "I'm sure you'll want Diana and Gilbert to know-"

"I don't want _anyone_ to know!" Anne argued, pulling her winter cap down over her head.

"Well, you don't have to tell them _yet_. But if you choose to, don't tell them at school where it could be overheard. Ask them to come over here instead."

Anne reminded her, "Diana isn't allowed to come over."

"Yes, I know- maybe Gilbert can tell her for you, then. Regardless, don't say it in school. We don't need _everyone_ knowing- there's no reason for it, not at this point."

Then Marilla had another thought: "I wouldn't tell Ruby _at all_. I know she's on your side, and that's good…but if she gets in Josie Pye's ear…" Marilla shook that thought away. "It won't do for things to become overly complicated."

"Josie already told everyone I was expecting," Anne said glumly.

"But those are Josie's rumors. Let's not validate them."

Then Anne had a sad thought: "Ruby won't be my friend anymore...I'm going to lose a friend."

Marilla was surprised. "Ruby's been one of your biggest defenders, hasn't she?"

"It isn't _her_," Anne said mournfully. "It's her _mother_. Mrs. Gillis doesn't like me having a baby- and I can't blame her, I don't like it myself- but she was willing to look _past _this if I did _'_the right thing_',_ as she put it."

"The right thing? Does she think you ought to give the baby up?"

Anne shook her head. "The baby's _illegitimate_. Mrs. Gillis says that can't be helped now, but that I better get married quickly before it's born, because it ought to have married parents. ...And she won't let Ruby be friends with an unwed mother."

Marilla raised her eyebrows. "I can't imagine Mrs. Gillis would want _this _baby's parents to be married...she knows the _circumstances_, doesn't she?"

Anne nodded miserably. "She does. But she says it isn't responsible to let a baby be born out of wedlock."

Marilla did not like this. "Marriage between you and that boy would be difficult, considering if he ever comes within ten yards of you, Matthew'll go after his rifle."

Anne couldn't help smiling, and Marilla finished comfortingly, "Mrs. Gillis _must _see how _impossible_ such a marriage would be- it wouldn't be fair to _you_, Anne."

"According to Mrs. Gillis, _I_ don't matter," Anne said pitifully. "I'm supposed to do what's right for the baby, even though it isn't fair to _me!"_

"But that _can't _be what's right for the baby," Marilla argued. "Two married parents, I agree- but _not_ when the father is violent toward the mother! That's not _right_, Anne, and Matthew and I would never allow such a thing!"

Anne went on, "But we don't need him, because Ruby told her mother that _Gilbert _and I were getting married. And Mrs. Gillis said she didn't care _who _I married, but that _someone _better marry me before that baby gets here!"

Anne's eyes were wet.

"Now don't start to cry! When it comes to it, I'll talk to Mrs. Gillis." Marilla watched her a moment.

Anne wiped her eyes on her pinafore. "But what could you say that would make her let Ruby be my friend?"

"I have an idea," Marilla thought of suddenly. "I'll tell Mrs. Gillis that you _wanted _to get married."

"I did?" Anne asked.

"Yes, you did," Marilla went on. "You couldn't help what happened to you, but you knew marriage was the right course of action. Mrs. Gillis will believe your morals are in the right place."

"All right…" Anne began.

Marilla continued, "But I'll tell her that _I _wouldn't _let _you- I absolutely refused! ...And after all, you can't get married without a guardian's permission, can you? You're too young."

"You think that'll help?" Anne asked hopefully.

"I'm sure of it."

Anne felt bad. "But then she won't like _you_, Marilla."

"I'm not worried about whether Mrs. Gillis likes me," Marilla said briskly.

Anne was touched, but also felt a little guilty. "I don't know..."

"Well, we'll try it," Marilla said comfortingly. "I'll go on about how sorrowful you are that I won't allow the marriage, because you wanted so badly to do the right thing."

Anne smiled back through her watery eyes. She knew Marilla did not approve of lying, and that for her to invent a story and put on an act, she must truly be committed to Anne not losing a friend in Ruby. Marilla did not always say how she felt, but her actions proved her love, loud and clear.

* * *

Without having any good place- or even an opportunity- to talk to Diana, Anne knew Gilbert would be the first to know. But despite how many difficult conversations she and Gilbert had together, telling him _this_ was not going to be easy for her. Of course he already knew it was _possible_...but it was all just so embarrassing.

At least she knew he loved her.

* * *

Anne went for over a week without telling Gilbert, but Gilbert could tell something was wearing on her, and he kept asking how she was, only to be met with a quiet "_I'm all right_".

Finally, in the afternoon, as they walked on the way home from school, Anne decided she could not go any longer without him knowing.

"Gilbert," Anne began miserably. She felt so embarrassed. She tried to tell herself that it shouldn't be embarrassing because he already _knew_ that pregnancy was _possible_\- they'd even talked about it many times_-_ and after all, they'd talked about so many _other_ embarrassing things in the past. But she still felt shameful.

"Yeah?" he asked, after she'd let a long silence hang in the space between them.

"I'm glad you're my friend," she said at last, chickening out.

He smiled. "I'm glad you're mine, too."

She sighed. _Just do it,_ she told herself.

"I hope we'll _always_ be friends," she said as she found once again that she could not break the news.

He frowned. "We will be."

"What?" she asked, seeing his expression.

"Oh, Anne, I'm sorry. Nothing. It's enough to be your friend. I'm _glad_ to be your friend."

"Oh, I see," she realized. "You're still hoping we'll court. And I still think it isn't going to work out very well."

He didn't say anything.

Anne went on, "It feels like we already _are_ courting, even though we can't go out anywhere."

Gilbert smiled a little bit to himself, hoping Anne wouldn't see.

They walked quietly for another minute.

"The math lesson today was hard," she said abruptly.

"I thought so, too," he said. "It's nice we can study together, isn't it?"

She smiled faintly, but couldn't help thinking, _It won't matter if I can't do the math; soon I won't even need to do it…_

She said suddenly- too loudly- "I made cookies with Marilla yesterday. They're oatmeal cookies with raisins. And I didn't burn them this time."

Gilbert laughed. "Good for you."

But Anne felt down again. _How can I be responsible for a person? I can barely keep track of a tray of cookies..._

Anne sighed unhappily.

"What's wrong?" Gilbert asked, looking at her. They had come within sight of Green Gables, and Anne decided she needed to just get out with it before they left each other for the day. She couldn't just keep bringing up other random topics and ignore what was-

"Something happened."

Gilbert's brow creased. "What?"

"Something _didn't _happen, I mean."

"I…don't follow," Gilbert told her.

She shook herself out of the thought of what _didn't _happen- she could not discuss menstruation with Gilbert.

"I've been having some…problems." That was as close as she thought she could get.

"Oh?" He looked deeply concerned and reached out for her hand.

"Yeah. And I told Marilla about it, and she took me to the doctor. And he said everything sounded like…like I'm not..._alone_."

Anne didn't know why it came out that way, but it did, and it sounded less awful than to be blunt about what was inside her.

"You're…not _alone?"_ Gilbert did not understand this strange statement.

"Yeah," Anne said. "I'm not alone."

He _still_ didn't get it, and Anne sighed, struggling for a way to say the awful truth: "There's a…a _thing_."

Gilbert was just staring at her as if trying to find something that would make sense. "A _thing?_ Anne, I don't underst-"

"A _thing_ that keeps getting bigger until it comes out and _ruins your life_," she finally spit out. She couldn't say the word. She couldn't even _look _at him.

He didn't say anything for such a long time that she finally- fearfully- looked up at his face.

He wasn't sure _what_ to say, but he reached out for her hand and squeezed it, and that helped to fill up some of the space where neither could talk.

She squeezed his hand too, finding it to be reassuring.

Finally he found words, and said softly. "A thing that'll ruin your life, eh? _Nothing_ can ruin your life. Your life is too big and too extraordinary to be ruined by _anything_."

She was quiet a moment.

"It sounds like you think there could be something beyond this dark horizon," she finally said, her voice sad.

"Well, the horizon only goes dark because the sun goes down," Gilbert pointed out. "But then morning comes, and it's back again- bright and sparkling."

Anne wanted to crumble and tell him that he was wrong, it was _all_ wrong, _everything_ was wrong.

But seeing how concerned he looked, and how much love and care there was in his eyes, Anne felt she could be a little bit braver: "You're right. ...I think...I think I'll be fine with it."

He squeezed her hand, and the squeeze made her feel stronger. "I have a sense of peace about it," she announced. She was nowhere close to a sense of peace, but she liked the way it sounded.

"Well…that's good," Gilbert said. "I'm glad."

"Yeah," she nodded. "So...so everything is good. I just needed to let you know."

He bit his lip, feeling unsure of how to respond.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, thanks for letting me know."

They were quiet a moment.

"I know this changes things for you," he began hesitantly. "But I want you to know that it doesn't change anything about how I feel for you, or what I hope for for the future, or anything else."

She blushed. "Well...I can't think about stuff like that now."

"No, of course, I didn't mean- I wasn't trying to push you to commit to anything. I was just saying…" he trailed off, feeling he had to be more careful. "Just…that I'm _here_. That's all. I'm here."

"Yeah."

Gilbert nodded slowly. "You want me to come in with you?"

"No. You should go. Your dad."

"I thought you might want to talk more. Or we could try to figure out the math lesson together?" Gilbert wanted to try to keep things normal for her, as normal as they could be.

She shook her head, sadly. The math lesson seemed ridiculous to her, somehow. As if geometry mattered anymore...

But to him she said, "Actually I'm kind of tired. I think I'll just take a nap before dinner."

"Oh, yeah," he said quickly. He had been thinking so much about assuring her he wouldn't change toward her, that he'd forgotten she was actually carrying 'the thing' right _now_. He said, "I guess you ought to get more rest, huh. Do you have to do anything else? Is there anything _I_ can do? Or get for you?"

She shook her head. "No."

He didn't know quite how to end it.

"Is it all right if I hug you?" he finally asked.

She nodded, wanting nothing more in the world than to feel his arms around her.

He held her gently, afraid to squeeze her to him like he normally did.

This made her laugh. "Gilbert, I won't break."

He smiled ruefully. "I didn't want to...I don't know- mess anything up?"

"You hugged me yesterday, and you've hugged me for weeks. You _do_ realize it's been there all along, don't you?"

"Oh…right. Yeah, I guess I didn't think of that."

She made a face. "That's…weird."

"What is?" he asked.

"That it's been there all this time."

"Yeah."

Then she had an even stranger thought: "You never _knew_ me before I was carrying around a…a _thing_. I mean, there was never a time where we were friends without me having that…_thing_."

He started to nod, but then Anne said, "Anyway, we better say goodbye. You need to go home and I want to lay down."

He looked concerned, but she smiled, for his benefit.

"All right," he said, giving her a gentle hug again before setting off.

"Wait, Gilbert?" she called out.

"Yeah?"

"Don't…don't tell your dad. Please. He'll _have_ to know, but…I just want a little more time."

"Of course."

"And Gilbert?"

"Yeah?" he came back to her.

Anne bit her lip, reaching out for his hand.

He squeezed it tight in his own.

Then she let go, and was ready to leave.

"All right," she said.

"All right?" he asked, confused.

"I just...needed that," she said, motioning toward his hand. "Before you went."

He smiled. He took her hand again, squeezed it once more, and then let go.


	13. Onion Baby

On Saturday Gilbert came over. It was the first time Anne had seen him since she'd told him her news.

He brought his geometry book- they were _both _having trouble- and with a test coming up, he thought maybe they could tackle it together.

Anne couldn't seem to concentrate, though, and finally he closed his book. He said, "Maybe we should do something else."

"I'm ready for a break," Anne agreed, stretching and closing her book, too. "I'm hungry. Let's have something to eat."

She got up and moved around the kitchen, trying to decide on a snack. "I still have some Victory Cookies. Do you want some?"

"Sure," Gilbert said. "Sounds good."

Anne put the cookies on a plate and set it on the table. She got two glasses of milk.

"Why are they called Victory Cookies?" Gilbert asked curiously. "What's in them?"

Anne smiled. "They're oatmeal raisin. I call them Victory Cookies because after I made them, Marilla said, '_congratulations, Anne- you've finally had a victory over the oven!'_ ...Because I normally burn them."

Gilbert laughed. He bit into a Victory Cookie. "Mmm, Anne- these are delicious!"

Anne smiled.

The cookies, which sounded good to her only a moment ago, no longer felt like _enough_.

"I wish Marilla were here," she said. "I'm hungry for real food- not just cookies- meat and potatoes, and onions, and…" she sighed wistfully. "She doesn't like me to use the stove when I'm by myself."

But then she brightened up. "I'm not by myself, though, am I? You're here."

Anne got a pan and buttered it.

"You don't think she'll mind?" Gilbert asked worriedly.

"No," Anne said, rummaging around for an onion. "She just doesn't want me to do it by myself because she thinks I'll burn down the house."

"Well," said Gilbert. "All right, then. I'll save you from the ravaging flames, if need be. What are you going to cook?"

"I want liver and onions," Anne announced.

Gilbert was not looking forward to the stench of liver and onions.

"Maybe you'd like beef again," he suggested. "We could go to my house. We've still got leftovers."

Anne felt her stomach turn. "No," she said, "No beef. Ugh. It sounds _awful_."

That was when Gilbert was reminded that Anne was expecting- he realized now that her adoration of beef stew and her subsequent repulsion of it, was probably pregnancy-related. ...The liver and onions might be, too.

"Well, if you have to have liver and onions, then you have to have liver and onions," he conceded.

Anne suddenly stopped and came back to the table. She sat down next to him, seemingly deflated.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked, worried.

Anne sighed. She rolled the onion back and forth between her hands. "I'm hungry all the time."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You need to eat."

"_No_," she said, setting the onion down. "I'm probably hungry all the time because...because _The Thing _is eating all my food!"

Gilbert didn't know how to respond to this. "Shouldn't it? I thought all expecting ladies had to eat more than usual. What's that saying- you're 'eating for two' now?"

Anne looked depressed at that thought. "You don't understand. The more it eats, the bigger it will get!"

Gilbert thought that didn't make much sense- it was going to get bigger regardless of what Anne ate. But he said, "It won't grow any faster than it should."

"I suppose," Anne said with a sigh.

"Anyway, it must be very small, to not even be seen," Gilbert pointed out.

"But it keeps _eating_."

He tried to sound more convincing: "It's so small, Anne- even if it gets a _little _bigger, I bet you won't even see it. I bet you'll have a _good_ long time before it gets big enough to notice."

They were quiet a moment.

"The thing is…" she began, feeling foolish. "The thing is, I'm...I'm sort of _afraid _of it."

"You mean, for it to be born?"

"No," Anne said. "Just...of _it_. _The Thing_. Just afraid of _The Thing_ in general."

He wasn't sure what to say. He watched her. Finally he shook his head. "It's too small to be afraid of."

Anne sighed.

Gilbert looked around. What could he do?

He saw the onion. "Look, I bet it's no bigger than this onion! You can't be afraid of something as _little _as this onion, can you?"

Anne looked at the onion doubtfully.

Gilbert grabbed Anne's pen from where she'd laid it across the top of her inkwell.

"Now," he said as he worked, "There."

He showed Anne the onion. It had a face. Gilbert had given it a goofy face, with big bulging eyes, curly lashes, a nose shaped like a squash, and a big silly grin with a tongue hanging out.

Anne couldn't help laughing just a little bit at the face he'd drawn.

Seeing that she'd lightened up, he added to it: "Uh-oh. It hasn't got any clothes on. What a scandal. How can I fix this?"

He glanced around. He leaned out to grab a tea towel. "Is it a boy onion or a girl onion?"

Anne smiled. "I don't know."

"It'll be a girl onion," Gilbert decided. He pulled the tea towel around the onion.

"That's the longest skirt in the world," Anne laughed.

Gilbert accidentally dropped the onion and it rolled down into the tea towel. He fished around for it and pulled it out.

Retrieving it, he gave it a critical look. "Doesn't have any legs," he said with a frown.

"We have toothpicks," Anne said, jumping up to get them.

She watched as Gilbert gave the onion arms and legs.

"They're awfully skinny limbs," Gilbert said.

"That's all right," she answered. "Mine are, too."

"Hmmm," Gilbert said. "It's not quite done. What else does it need?"

"Hair," Anne told him.

Gilbert thought a moment. "Got any cinnamon? I can make it stick with butter."

"Cinnamon! No, I _won't _give you any cinnamon. You're going to make red hair!"

Gilbert smiled sheepishly. Anne laughed. "I'd rather it be bald than have red hair."

Gilbert admitted defeated. "All right, bald it is."

Anne seemed to deflate a bit, so Gilbert had to quickly think of something new.

He walked the onion baby across the table. "Hi, Anne," he said in a squeaky voice. He waved one of the toothpick arms at her.

The corner of Anne's mouth turned up.

"I'm an onion baby," he said in the same squeaky voice, when she didn't respond.

He waited. Then he said, "I promise I won't make you cry. Unless you peel me."

Anne told Gilbert, "I know how to keep from crying when you peel and slice up onions. You just do it in a bowl of water."

Gilbert answered back as the onion baby, "I think you'll find I'm very _a-peel-ing._"

Anne laughed.

Gilbert kept talking as the onion baby. "As an onion, I'll add _zing _to your life. I'm very _sharp_."

"Sharp is right- it makes my eyes water just from touching it!" Anne said. "All right, Gilbert- I feel better now. You don't have to keep playing dolls with an onion."

Gilbert grinned at her. Anne took the onion back to the counter and undressed it.

"...Almost doesn't seem right to eat it, now," she commented.

This made Gilbert laugh.

Anne looked back at him and smiled. He was so silly.

She came back to the table and sat down. "Well, I wish it could _stay _that little, then- no bigger than that onion. And never come out! ...I _suppose _I could accept having it with me, _if _it promised never to get bigger or to come out."

"It won't be so bad when it gets bigger," Gilbert said, holding her hand and squeezing it.

Anne wasn't happy. How could he make that better, too?

He had an idea: "You like the name Cordelia, right? You could have a little Cordelia."

She shrugged as if that _might_ be all right, but she was biting her lip.

Gilbert needed to think of something else. "Hmmm…no. No, it needs _more_." He thought a moment. "How 'bout this? _Cordelia Rosamund Lavinia Esmerelda Hyacinth Shirley-Cuthbert_. What do you think of that?"

Anne couldn't help smiling at the long ridiculous name that she thought he'd picked quite nicely.

Gilbert, encouraged by the sight of her smiling, pushed the thought even further: "Are you sure it's _enough?_ Maybe we need to add another name or two."

"She won't be able to write her name on her school papers," Anne said, laughing. "It won't_ fit!"_

Gilbert smiled, relieved that he'd been able to move her from sadness to laughter.

When the moment of laughter passed and her eyes grew serious and troubled again, he was quick to say: "And people give new mothers presents. That'll be fun."

Anne nodded a little bit.

"…And…and with all the sewing, well…it would be a chance to make a little wardrobe of all the clothes you ever wanted…all the fancy gowns and bonnets and things all ruffly and full of frills…all those fluffed sleeves and whatnot-"

"_Puffed_ sleeves," Anne reminded him again.

"Right. Puffed sleeves. Imagine all the pretty dresses lined up. …It'll be just like when you were little and played with dolls."

Anne thought about this. "I never _had_ a doll before," she told him. "I suppose when you get past the drudgery of diapers and crying, the rest of the time it _might_ be like having a doll."

"Sure," he said enthusiastically. "And it'll sleep a lot, so most of the time all you'll have to do is just hold it and look at it."

"Maybe I won't want to look at it," Anne said hesitantly.

"You'll want to look at it- just wait until you see how cute it is," Gilbert told her. "With all that red hair it's going to have."

Anne finally laughed. "You're awfully stuck on red hair."

Gilbert looked up at her, a little smile, his eyes twinkling.

Then Anne said, "Well, I suppose I _have_ to eat, even if that means it gets bigger! I'm going to make liver and onions- will you eat with me?"

"I'd rather have carrots," he said.


	14. Sunday School

On Sunday Gilbert saw Anne in church. She hadn't been in Sunday School, but how could she? Billy was there.

Marilla nearly made her get ready earlier so she wouldn't be late, until she realized the situation and said, "...We'll just go to church, I think."

Matthew didn't mind not going early; it cut down on the time he'd have to make small talk with neighbors and townsfolk. But he felt bad, thinking that Anne ought to be able to attend.

"Wish we'd thought of Sunday school when we threatened the Andrews," Matthew said under his breath to Marilla as they walked out of the house.

"They took our threat seriously enough to pull him from school, but I doubt they'd have let us push them as far as to stay home from _church_," Marilla said just as quietly.

"Well, _he's _the one who needs Sunday School, not our Anne," Matthew said defensively. "Still, I don't like it."

"I don't either," Marilla said, unhappy. "I've tried to bring religion into her life, and I think she's taking to it just fine, but a child _ought _to be in Sunday School to be brought up _properly_."

"What I don't like most about it is that she can't see her friends there," Matthew said softly as Anne came out onto the porch. "Morning, Anne."

Anne smiled at Matthew's greeting and climbed into the buggy. Matthew had been driving the buggy slower ever since Marilla told him of Anne's probable condition. He was worried about jostling her too much over the bumpy road.

Anne wondered why Matthew had begun to drive slower, but didn't think to ask why, because every time they drove somewhere, she was too busy chattering on and on about other things.

Once at church, Sunday School was just ending and the children were coming into the congregation. Matthew and Marilla guided Anne into their regular pew and sat down just as the choir began the introit.

Marilla had a sudden thought that if Anne could not go to Sunday School, perhaps she'd like to join the choir. They met at the same time, and Anne would like to sing- and best of all, no one from the Andrews family was in the choir. But her hopes were dashed when she realized that there was nothing Anne would want less right now than to stand in front of the church every week with all of Avonlea's eyes on her.

She glanced at Matthew, but he was looking down at Anne.

Marilla found her eyes wandering over to where the Andrews' family sat. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews sat regal and proud looking, and their three prim and proper children sat in a row, dressed exquisitely. When the tithe plate was passed, Mr. Andrews laid several crisp bills in it, sniffed, and seemed to be watching to see if others laid in anything that would overshadow his own contribution. Marilla was reminded of Mark 8:36..._For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?_

The service passed uneventfully, and when it was over, Matthew and Marilla rushed Anne out immediately.

As they made their way to the buggy, Diana tried to get Anne's attention but was pressed ahead by her mother. Frowning, she gave Anne a small wave.

Matthew saw this, and squeezed Anne close. "You have school days with her, at least," he reminded her in a quiet murmur. Anne nodded, and tried to smile for Matthew's sake.

Gilbert, however, was free to run to Anne all he wanted. He came to church alone these days, and had his father been able to come with him, they'd both have wanted to talk to Anne.

Gilbert smiled. "Anne, I'm so glad to see you! Hello, Mr. and Miss Cuthbert."

Matthew gave him a nod in greeting, but Marilla said, "Hello, Gilbert. How is your father doing?"

"He's well enough right now, it seems," Gilbert told her. "He's been having some really good days."

They chatted for a few minutes, but Anne wasn't listening. She was staring at a small enamel pin on Gilbert's lapel.

After a few minutes, Gilbert noticed. "What is it?" He looked down to his shirt, where her eyes were.

"Oh," he said. "Uh...that's just..."

Then suddenly Gilbert clammed up. He pulled the pin off and shoved it into his pocket. "Hey," he said enthusiastically. "I wondered if Anne might be allowed to come over and see my dad today. ...He really misses you, Anne."

Marilla nodded, "That would be fine. Would you like to, Anne?"

But Anne was looking around now, at the others filing out of the church. Several of the young people were wearing pins like Gilbert's. She couldn't help but notice the Andrews as they started down the path. Jane and Prissy both had pins stuck to the front of their dresses, and try as she might not to look at Billy, the pin on his shirt lapel caught the sunlight and sparkled. Anne's eyes welled up. She shook her head. "No," she said. "No, I want to go home."

She turned away from them and went to the buggy by herself.

Marilla looked at Gilbert. Her expression was a mix of confusion and regret. "Gilbert, I'm sorry, I don't know what-"

Gilbert sighed. "She kept staring at my pin."

"Your pin?" Marilla asked. She had seen Gilbert pull something from his shirt lapel, but she hadn't gotten a good enough look at it to know what it was.

So Gilbert took it out of his pocket and showed them. "From Sunday School. ...Today was the end of the term...and...well…" He trailed off, helplessly looking at Anne off in the buggy by herself.

Matthew and Marilla glanced at each other.

Marilla put a hand on his shoulder, feeling sorry that he had to know he'd caused her upset, even unintentionally. She said softly, "I suppose we'll go on home. Please tell your father we're thinking of him. I'm sure Anne will want to visit again soon."


	15. Absences

Billy hasn't left town yet, but Gilbert is about to prompt that into happening.

.

.

* * *

Gilbert watched as they walked to their buggy and started off on the stretch of road.

He went back into the church. He wandered back to the Sunday School classroom. Standing in the doorway, he saw that the teacher was packing up some boxes.

"Do you need help carrying anything?" he asked.

She turned and looked at him. "Thank you, no. But it's kind of you to offer."

Gilbert came in anyway.

"I couldn't help being surprised to have gotten this," Gilbert commented, taking the Sunday School pin out of his pocket. "I've missed so much this year."

The teacher just gave him a smile and put her record book into a box.

But Gilbert didn't want a smile, he wanted an answer. Gesturing to her record book, he said, "I thought I remembered that you could only be absent twice?"

"Yes," she answered. "It's always been two absences only. But I hardly felt I could penalize you for missing, considering the circumstances. With your father doing poorly, and having no mother to-" she broke off, not wanting to make him sad. "I'm happy you have your housekeeper back to help you. Perhaps you'll be able to attend more regularly now. I'm sure you hated to miss."

"Yes..." Gilbert began. "So...so if someone _had _to miss more than twice- but they had a good reason for it..."

Seeing something was on his mind, she stopped working and sat down. "Are you thinking of anyone in particular?"

"Anne Shirley," he said, sinking into a chair.

The Sunday School teacher was surprised. "Why, she's missed quite a few times. But she couldn't have been ill; she's still been coming to church."

"No," he said slowly. "She hasn't been ill…" He sighed. "She _can _come to _church_. ...She just can't come to Sunday School."

"Well, Gilbert, I do _feel _for her- it saddens me when a child wants to come to Sunday School but has parents unwilling to drive here early to attend. ...I know! Why don't I ask around and see if someone could pick her up and bring her? I know the Barry's live very close to Green Gables, perhaps they wouldn't mind swinging round on their way to church in the mornings?"

Gilbert, biting his lip, shook his head. "No, thank you."

He did not know what to say, so he slowly stood up to go.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned.

He hesitated. Could he share _anything _with her? Finally he sat down again. "Anne _wants _to come. And the Cuthberts _are _willing to bring her. But...there are _other _reasons she can't go. And...and the reasons aren't her fault."

The teacher just waited.

"It's Billy Andrews," Gilbert began slowly.

He could see the sudden realization in her eyes. "I had _heard_ some things. I don't pay any mind to gossip, you understand. I thought there was no truth to it."

"There _are _some false rumors going around," Gilbert acknowledged. "But something _did _happen. Just not...not what people want you to think. Billy's done something bad- something _violent_."

That was the extent of what Gilbert was willing to share, and he stopped talking.

"Gilbert, it sounds as if you want to protect Anne's privacy, and I think that's very honorable. But I also have a duty to the children in my class. If you truly witnessed something that makes Billy a _danger_, then I _need _to know."

Gilbert nodded slowly.

"Now, do you _know _he committed some act of violence, or is this something you heard about from someone else? Because you must remember the ninth commandment-"

"Thou shalt not bear false witness," he supplied. He took a deep breath and said, "I know what he did, and I know that it's true, because I was there." Gilbert hesitated before saying, "He...he did something with Anne- no, _to _Anne- that you're not supposed to do until marriage. And...it wasn't...it wasn't _wanted_."

His teacher looked at his earnest, troubled face, and knew that he was telling her the truth.

"Anne can only come to church because her family stays right by her side, and she can only go to school because the Andrews agreed to take Billy out of school to avoid a legal trial."

He saw her eyes widen. A legal trial- and the Andrews pulling him out of school to avoid it- put the whole situation on a new level.

Gilbert said, "But when it comes to Sunday School, Anne can't come because she isn't _safe _with him here, and it isn't fair for her to have to be around him, anyway."

He sighed and finished, "So she just stays home."

A heavy silence hung in the air. "I don't expect you to believe it," he dared to say. "The Andrews are…" he trailed off, unsure of how to say anything bad about them in church.

"No," she told him. "No, unfortunately I _can _believe it. I don't _want _to believe it, but I can."

"Have to say I'm surprised," Gilbert admitted. "Most people can't."

"Well...teaching Sunday School gives me some insight into the children's characters, I think." She shook her head. "Perhaps I should speak to the reverend…"

"No!" Gilbert said. "Um, excuse me, ma'am. I just don't think that'll help. The reverend knows about it already."

"_Does_ he?" the teacher replied, eyebrows up. "This is news to me! Are you sure he knows?"

Gilbert nodded. "He just...keeps it quiet. He believes Anne's at fault. Just because she was an orphan. But nothing could be further from the truth. Anne's a nice girl. Really."

Gilbert took a breath, ready to be over with the conversation. "Yeah, so there's really nothing to be done. I just wanted to ask about absences because Anne got so upset when she saw some of us with our Sunday School pins. That's all."

"There's more to this than Sunday School pins," she said briskly, clearly disturbed. "If there is truth to the story- Gilbert- I _do _believe you- I don't think Billy ought to be in my class any longer. I don't feel comfortable with any of this. The _girls_..."

Gilbert wished he hadn't said anything, because he didn't want anything to become more public than it already was.

When she saw his worried face, she said, "I'm _glad _you told me about this. Apparently the reverend did not feel the need to share this with me, despite it involving the children in my class! ...I'm not sure _what _we'll do, but since we have a break from Sunday School, I'll have some time to think. In the meantime, let's work out some sort of plan for Anne so she won't feel left out of things."

Gilbert felt relieved.

The Sunday School teacher rummaged through her box of supplies and found Anne's Sunday School program. "Take this to Anne, please. She never came back in to pick it up. I assumed she simply wasn't interested anymore. I would have tracked her down to give it to her and ask her to come back, but lately she and the Cuthberts seem to zip right out of church the moment it's over. ...So she'll have her book now. And does she have a Bible at home, do you know? How silly- of course she has a Bible at home, she's with Marilla Cuthbert, isn't she."

She hovered over the Sunday School program a moment before handing it to Gilbert.

"Don't let her feel badly about the Sunday School pin. We'll get it all worked out. Now that I know she can't come- and with good reason- I'll come to her."


	16. Different

The drive home was hard. Marilla tried to talk to Anne. "I'm sorry you haven't been able to go to Sunday School, Anne. I know it isn't right. When we..._influenced_...the Andrews to pull Billy out of school, we should have thought of Sunday School, too. I don't know why we didn't. Why don't we talk to them again? Maybe we can convince them that he shouldn't attend. Then you could-"

Anne covered her face with her hands. She was not crying, she was angry.

"Anne?" Marilla said gently, her hand on Anne's shoulder.

"It isn't _fair_," Anne said through her hands. "And you _know _they won't make him _leave- _they already did what you said- and they gave you all that money-"

"They gave _you _money," Matthew corrected. He did not want Anne to feel as if he and Marilla were benefiting from her troubles.

"Well, they won't do anything _more _for me. I _know _they won't! In their heads, it's all been settled."

Marilla was quiet, thinking. She suspected Anne was correct. She could already see the Andrews getting indignant, deciding the Cuthberts were just blackmailing them at this point. What if they got angry, thinking too much was being demanded of them, and they decided that they'd go back on their promise? They could put Billy back in school, and there wouldn't be anything the Cuthberts could do about it- their agreement not to take Billy to court could not be rescinded, because it had been an empty threat in the first place- Matthew and Marilla had _never _been willing to put Anne through a trial.

Marilla wasn't sure what to do, and Matthew provided no answers. "A pin doesn't mean anything," was all he said, trying to comfort Anne.

"It isn't _just _the pin," she explained. "It's my friends going and me staying home! And maybe a little bit of it is about the pin. But the worst part is that Billy's walking around wearing it. Why should _he _have it?"

"That's why it doesn't matter," Matthew told her. "They don't mean anything if _he _has one."

"That's right," Marilla agreed. "And Anne, those pins aren't about what kind of person you are or what's in your heart. ...They're just about the _class_."

"The class_ I_ can't be in," Anne said.

* * *

But later that afternoon, something even worse hit her.

She was laying on her bed- still thinking about the Sunday School pins- when a memory of Billy flashed across her eyes for a brief moment, as clear as if he was right there in the room with her.

_It's so unfair, _she thought, rubbing her stomach because it had started hurting with worry.

And then she could not get the image out of her mind: Billy, coming down the church steps, his perfect hair and his perfect clothes, smiling arrogantly, with that stupid pin glittering on his shirt collar, his strong arm reaching out to shake someone's hand as if all was right with the world.

And as she rubbed her stomach, and thought of that- and tried to shake him out of her head- suddenly her mind connected to her body: rubbing her stomach and thinking of Billy merged, becoming _one._

Initially she had been troubled with the idea of expecting, and that was only the part about _herself _being sick and having a growing belly- the reality of a baby at the end of it did not even come into her thoughts...lately, she had begun to accept that there would be an actual baby coming- yet she still hadn't let it into her mind that Billy was a factor in that. And now she could not ignore it: Billy was _undeniably _and _inextricably _a part of herself now- as the one that put the baby there, and the baby- _his _baby- was going to be inside her for the next several months, and could perhaps be with her forever- and this was too much to bear.

Anne sat up, her eyes wet. _I can't change it! What can I do? I have to change __**something!**_

She looked frantically around her room. _My grades, _she thought desperately. She snatched a book from her bedside table. _I got a ninety-seven on the last test. This time I'll get a one hundred. _

But when she couldn't concentrate on her book, she got upset. _There's no test for two more weeks- what can I do __**right now?**_

Marilla heard a heavy scraping sound and rushed upstairs to see what was happening.

She found Anne shoving her dresser from one wall to another. She had already moved her desk and was about to start on her bed when Marilla, very much alarmed, shouted, "Anne! Stop that at once!"

Anne looked up in surprise. She had not noticed Marilla there.

"What?" she asked innocently.

Marilla came in and stopped her. "You mustn't be moving furniture!"

Anne did not understand what the fuss was all about.

"Or lifting heavy things. You mustn't over-exert yourself. It's not healthful."

"I'm strong," Anne said.

"I never said you weren't. But you're expecting now, and that means you can't do the things you did before. The doctor said you mustn't overdo."

"Just moving my room around isn't overdoing," Anne defended.

"No heavy lifting, no farm chores, and you must take care not to jostle yourself around the way you usually do. I talked all about it with Dr. Carter…You _can_ collect the eggs from the chickens- but _no_ climbing on top of the henhouse as you're used to!- and you can help me a bit in the kitchen- as long as you're not lifting heavy pots or hauling water. No laundry. And I've given Jerry warning that if you're in the barn doing chores, he's to fetch me straight away."

Anne was looking at her blankly, so Marilla explained the obvious: "You have to be careful about what you do, so the baby won't come to harm."

"I don't care!" Anne said, her arms crossed, pouting.

"Anne!"

"Well, I _don't!_"

"Then you must start caring," Marilla said firmly.

"Why?" was Anne's grouchy reply. "Why _should_ I? I don't want it to get…to get all _comfortable_ in there! It might start thinking it's perfectly welcome to stay, when it most assuredly is not!"

Marilla took a breath. Anne was impossible, and just now she was unreasonable. "Fine," Marilla said. "If you don't want to think of the baby's health, then think of your own. Dr. Carter said it is dangerous for you to have any sort of shock to the system. You won't just be hurting the baby, you'll be hurting _yourself _too."

Seeing Anne was unconvinced, Marilla thought of something to threaten her with. "If you don't take care and you continue on in such a manner, Dr. Carter might put you on bed rest."

'What does that mean?" Anne asked.

"It's where you must stay in bed. All the time. Day and night. Only up to use your chamber pot, then back to bed. For the duration of the time. You'd be awfully bored, wouldn't you? Only able to sit and look out your window at the world below?"

Anne thought about how much she loved her little window but how much _more_ she loved what was _outside_ of it. The thought of spending months only watching it from indoors was unfathomable.

"So you must stop doing things you aren't supposed to do. All right? …And don't stomp around!" Marilla added when she saw Anne looked ready to stomp around at that very moment.

But Anne didn't stomp. Instead she just said, in a stomping-sort-of-voice: "I don't _want_ to have a baby."

Marilla felt unsympathetic: "What to do about the baby can be determined later- maybe someone else can keep it. But _right_ _now_ you haven't any choice about keeping it, so you have to take care of it until it gets here. You're the only one who can protect it, Anne, no one else can take over _that_ part for you."

Marilla took another look at Anne and softened. She reached out, bringing Anne close to her side, and said, "Come now, lie down and take a little rest."

She coaxed Anne into lying down, and then sat down beside her, patting her back.

"If you won't think of the baby and you won't think of yourself, then think of Matthew and _me_. If anything happened to you, we'd be beside ourselves with grief. Now you don't want to do that to us, do you, dear? Matthew loves you _so_ much. And so do _I._"

Anne looked up at Marilla. "But I _need_ to move my furniture so it'll all be _different_. …I just want _everything_ to be different."


	17. Grown Up Friends

I don't normally like writing in extra characters that aren't really in the tv show, but I felt Anne needed something different and exciting to cheer her up.

* * *

Anne fell asleep with Marilla there, rubbing her back.

She was stirred from her sleep in the late afternoon, sunbeams coaxing her awake by dancing across her freckled cheeks.

When she came downstairs again, she was terribly hungry.

She was about to ask if she could help with dinner, but sighed, thinking Marilla probably wouldn't want her to.

But Marilla didn't need help with dinner. "We're going out," she announced.

"To Mrs. Lynde's?" Anne asked, thinking Mrs. Lynde had invited them for dinner.

"No," Matthew said. "And we won't tell you where. Just go get in the buggy. It's a surprise."

"A surprise?" Anne asked. "For me?"

"Naturally," Marilla said. "Now go on, get in the buggy."

Anne bounced out the door.

Matthew laughed.

Marilla told him, "I hate to see her upset. My saving grace is that it's so easy to pick her back up. Anything different, anything that's a surprise, and off she goes."

They followed her out.

Matthew's slow driving felt even slower now that Anne was excited.

A short time later Matthew pulled up to the Perkins' house.

"Are we eating at Emily's house?" Anne asked curiously.

"Maybe. You'll have to wait and see," Matthew said.

Marilla rang the bell. Emily was quick to answer.

"Hello, Anne," Emily said warmly.

"Hello, Emily!" But then she felt awkward. "I'm sorry I stopped coming over to help you with Clara…"

Emily shook her head. "That's all right. You've had other things going on just now. I understood."

Anne glanced up at Marilla.

Marilla nodded slightly- she _had _told Emily about Anne's condition. She felt she had to.

Surprisingly, Anne did not mind. Telling Emily was different from telling other people, and Anne was relieved not to have to tell Emily herself.

"Anyway," Emily said brightly, "I've been asking Miss Cuthbert to bring you by for a visit, and today she finally said you were able to. I'm excited you're here."

Anne was happy, but she was also hungry. She hoped she was there for more than just a visit.

"We'll see you later, Anne. Mr. Perkins will bring you home. Have a good time," Marilla said, leaning down for a quick hug.

Anne hugged Matthew too.

Emily led Anne into the house. "Are you ready to go, or would you like to use the privy before we set out?"

"Where are we going?" Anne asked. "I thought I was just here to visit."

"Oh, we'll visit. But we're going to go somewhere else," she said mysteriously.

Anne was intrigued.

Emily gave her a shortbread cookie to eat while they waited, but it was only a couple of minutes before a buggy pulled up the drive.

"All right, Anne, we can go now," Emily said cheerfully.

Anne followed her out and was met with two young women she hadn't seen before.

"Anne, these are my friends- Beatrice Archer and Betsy Sefton. Girls, this is Anne."

"Good afternoon, Mrs…" Anne felt shy suddenly.

"Oh, first names, please," Betsy said with a smile. "Emily's told us all about you and I'm sure we'll be fast friends."

Anne smiled.

"The girls and I were heading over to Winnie's house- Winifred Larkin- she's another girlfriend of ours. ...Remember how I told you that sometimes I'd want you to babysit for me so I could still have these little outings with my friends, as we did before we all married?"

Anne looked around. "Oh, am I to watch Clara? Where is she?"

Emily laughed. "No, I'm not bringing you to babysit. My mother-in-law is keeping Clara for the afternoon- I thought you could come with us and have a bit of fun today. Would you like that?"

Anne still felt a bit shy, but she was terribly flattered that Emily would think of inviting her to come along, as if she were a real friend, as if she were grown up like Emily and the other young women.

She finally smiled, and Emily rushed her into the buggy.

"We take turns at each other's houses, usually Saturdays or Sundays. Not every week, but as often as we can. Many of our other friends aren't married yet, so it's easier for them, but for us- each of us with a baby- it's a real treat to have an afternoon together."

They went into town, driving to Winifred Larkin, whom Anne had never met.

Anne was very impressed with the Larkin's home. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Larkin," she said softly, trying to be very polite so Marilla wouldn't regret letting her come.

"You must be Anne? Winnie, if you please. No _Mrs_., this is the day we pretend we've none of the cares of family life." She laughed, her voice sounding musical to Anne's ears. "Come in."

Anne hung back and pulled on Emily's sleeve. "Do _they…_"

"No, dear," Emily said, her arm around Anne. "It's none of their business- unless you want them to know."

Anne was delighted with the spread. There were cookies with powdered sugar on them, cucumber sandwiches, and deviled eggs.

She ate more than her fair share, but none of the ladies seemed to mind. The talk began with what their babies were doing- they each had one- but it quickly turned to other subjects. Dresses and hats seemed to be a big topic of conversation with Emily and her friends, and Anne was enraptured.

Winnie brought out a pattern book she'd gotten by mail order catalog, and all the "girls" were poring over it.

When Anne mentioned she wished she could wear pink, Emily said kindly, "I bet we could find a shade of pink that would work."

Anne shook her head. "Thank you, Emily, but there's no hope- my hair is a lost cause."

Winnie stood up. "I don't think so. Look, come upstairs with me."

Anne slowly followed Winnie up the stairs and into her room. She felt very awkward there as Winnie rummaged around.

"Look at this," Winnie finally said, producing a pink hat. "This is one of my old hats- I'm afraid it's a bit shabby now, but I want you to try it on, just to see how it looks." She took Anne's hand and led her down the stairs.

"Why, I think that shade is perfect for red hair," Emily told her. "I bet you think it clashes horribly, Anne, but it doesn't- it's lovely."

Anne looked in the mirror and felt that maybe Emily was right- it was sort of a purply-pink- more purple than pink, really- and it looked all right with her hair.

"I wish I was old enough to wear hats like this," she said with a wistful sigh. "And long skirts, and white kid gloves for the _theatre_...have any of _you_ ever been to the theatre? _I've_ never been, but I saw people coming out of one, once, and all the ladies had on these long, long white gloves that went up over their elbows, and they carried opera glasses, and ever since then I've always _wanted_ to carry around little opera glasses! Even if I never go to the theatre, I _still_ want to have opera glasses, so it'll _seem _as if I go all the time. Green ones, I think. Once when I was in a shop I saw a pair; they looked like they were made of brass and they had green enamel _embellishments_. I just love the word _embellishments!_ It's such a lovely word because it's full of meaning, but it could mean _anything_. It could mean a butterfly, or curly-cues, or..."

The ladies had become delighted with the things Anne said, and listened to her with amusement.

Hours went by with Anne feeling special, as if she were part of Emily's crowd, and that meant a lot to her, since she couldn't be part of her own.

She was brought home in the evening with a package of sugar cookies.


	18. Three in Her Corner

As Gilbert got ready for bed, his Sunday School pin fell out of his pants pocket and clattered to the floor. He picked it up and looked at it. The pin just made him melancholy, now. He wondered if he ought to give it to Anne to keep, but realized right away that that would never do- Anne didn't want somebody else's pin handed to her. She wanted to be able to come back to the class and have her own.

_Well, maybe the teacher will be able to help...she said she would._

Gilbert put the pin in the little box he kept on his desk, with all the others. He had ten of them, now.

He was glad the teacher _just _gave pins- he remembered his dad saying that they used to give out one pin and then there were colored bars to be added underneath. Gilbert was glad they didn't use those anymore- he'd look decorated like a war hero, and how would Anne feel then? He took the box off of his desk and shut it in a drawer, not intending to open it again.

Gilbert wished he could talk to his father about Anne.

His father _knew _about what had happened, and he knew a baby was a _possibility_, but he did not yet know that the baby was a definite thing. And Anne didn't want him to reveal her news yet. She wanted to do that herself. ...He hoped she would soon, because he hated keeping things from his father.

And John Blythe knew his son too well. It had not escaped his notice that there was something Gilbert wasn't telling him.

* * *

The Sunday School teacher spoke to the reverend the following Monday when she came into the church.

After a discussion- which quickly became heated- the reverend made the decision that when Sunday School resumed, boys would be in separate classes from girls.

While the teacher's concern _had _been for the girls in her class to be near a boy with such violent tendencies, she thought that putting girls and boys in separate classes was simply masking the problem.

The reverend's solution _would _keep Billy away from the girls, but it did nothing to hold Billy accountable for his actions.

* * *

The next week at church, the teacher left as quickly as she could so that she could catch up to the Cuthberts, who always seemed to zip right out of church the moment it was over.

"Would I be able to come over and visit Anne sometime? I couldn't help noticing she's stopped coming to Sunday School."

Marilla said, "You're certainly welcome. ...I'm sorry we pulled her from the class. She wanted to attend, but...there were things keeping us from bringing her."

"I wrongly assumed she was no longer interested. I would have encouraged her to come back, but it's been hard to talk to you at church lately," she continued. "Gilbert Blythe told me Anne was upset about not being there, so I thought perhaps I could get her back on track with the others so when Sunday School starts again she won't have missed anything."

"That's very kind of you," Marilla began. "I'm just not sure she'll come back when the new term starts."

There was a pause. "Miss Cuthbert," the teacher finally said in a low voice, "I'm aware of what has happened to Anne, and I want things _changed_. The reverend has decided that when Sunday School resumes, boys and girls will be in separate classes. And...I'm trying to do more."

"If the boys will be separated from the girls, perhaps we can send her back," Marilla said hesitantly. "I appreciate you being in our corner, but I'm not sure what more there is to do...the Andrews will always be at church."

"We'll have to think of something."

* * *

While Anne cared more about the social aspect of Sunday School than the actual content of the class, she was glad the Sunday School teacher began to come over, because having another class to study for gave her some much-needed distraction from her problems.

* * *

With only a little bit of time before and after school- and lunches that went by much too fast- Anne and Diana struggled to fit in everything they wanted to say. They both began writing letters at home, which they exchanged each day, so that they could fit more in. Anne, however, had to be more guarded than she'd like, because she could not bear to think of her letters falling into the wrong hands. She knew Diana was scared enough to have started to put Anne's letters in the fire after she'd read them.

Anne's 'confession' to Diana had been as follows:

_Darling Diana, _

_My fears have been realized. The darkness is upon me. A gloomy ocean of despair has washed over my soul. All is lost._

_Eternally yours, even as I perish-_

_Anne._

Diana had shown this vague, flowery message to Gilbert, who confirmed that, yes, Anne was talking about being 'in the family way'.

Diana's response had been more practical:

_Anne,_

_I'm awful sorry about your sea of despair. What did you family say? They're not going to send you away, are they? I know you worried they would, but they couldn't possibly, I'm sure of it!_

_Don't tell my mother- I suppose I'll have to figure out how to do that. _

_Are you well? I hope you're all right. What did the doctor say about it?_

_Are they going to make you leave school? Oh, Anne, I don't know how we'll keep talking. At least there's Gilbert to help us get our letters back and forth. _

_Faithfully yours,_

_Diana_

Diana's letter showed her worry over Anne, and Anne was grateful to have a friend who loved her, but it was not exactly a helpful or encouraging letter, and Anne felt worse after reading it.

* * *

But the next day at lunchtime, Diana hugged her and said- filling Anne with love and hope- "We'll always be bosom friends. Even if everything in the whole world changes, nothing will change _that_."


	19. Birthday Party

"Matthew," Marilla said the next week while Anne was at school. "Anne's birthday is in just a week, and I thought we'd have a little party for her. What do you think?"

Matthew looked up, surprised she was asking him for an opinion.

"She ought to have a party," he said. "Why- d'you think we shouldn't?"

"It's just so complicated, now. _Ruby's _allowed to come over. We can't let on that Anne's expecting, of course, because Mrs. Gillis knows it's a possibility and she expects Anne to marry if she is."

Matthew shook his head at that.

"Diana's mother hasn't decided yet _what _she believes- she's heard _all _the rumors- but unlike Mrs. Gillis, Mrs. Barry seems to be on the side of Anne being at fault. That's what's holding me back the most: Diana not coming."

Matthew felt just as bad as Marilla at that thought, though he said nothing.

"Tillie Boulter will come for sure...I won't invite Josie- she's the one who began the rumors...and Jane-" Marilla shook her head, troubled. "Poor Jane. She'd come if she could!"

"Gilbert's her friend," Matthew offered.

Marilla shook her head at him. "Oh, Matthew! You don't have a boy at a girl's party! At least- not _now_. It won't be long until they'll have mixed parties- and dances in the evenings and things like that. But Anne's still young enough that her parties are in the afternoon, not the evening, and it won't do to invite a boy at this stage."

This thought upset Marilla- that Anne was still a bit shy of courting age, yet she had her current predicament of a baby to attend to.

She continued, "So you see now- when it comes right down to it, we may only have Ruby and Tillie to rely on, and two guests don't make much of a party!"

Matthew didn't say anything, but he was thinking that if someone had a party for _him_, he'd be perfectly content with having only two guests. But _Anne_.. "Anne will be happy with whatever we do for her," he said, to make his sister feel better.

Marilla sighed, still troubled. "I just don't want the party to _emphasize _how many people didn't come."

Matthew had an idea. "What about if it _wasn't _a party? An _outing- _someplace to _go_, and- and we'll say that because it's a little trip, she can only bring two girls with her?"

Marilla stared at him. "Oh, Matthew- that's exactly right. Thank you. But...oh dear, I'm afraid of the expense...a party at home has very little cost, but to invite two friends and go away...besides, what would they _do?"_

Before Matthew could think of anything, Marilla answered herself: "If we took them to a theatrical performance or some such event, that would be good. I have no idea how much tickets would be- you and I certainly don't do much of that sort of thing! ...I'll find out what there is to do, and then we'll see if we can manage it."

There was a play going on in Charlottetown, and Marilla was able to secure four seats together- Matthew did not want to go out. Because it was the matinee, and they would have seats closer to one side than in the middle, they were able to pay for it without much worry. They told Anne about it, and the joy and wonder in her expression made it worth the cost.

Matthew, unbeknownst to Marilla, had given the girls a little money so they could buy refreshments. They wanted to be allowed to go buy them on their own, and Marilla needed to use the facilities before the show began, so she let them. "Don't leave the theatre," she said worriedly. "And don't talk to strangers. Buy them and come _straight_ back."

The girls felt very grown up as they went out into the lobby to purchase things. Because Ruby whispered that the attendant was handsome, Tillie and Anne pushed her to go to the front and be the one to ask for what they wanted. Ruby asked for the nuts and candied fruit, gave the man the money, and giggled when he called her "ma'am".

Anne had a wonderful time, even though Diana and Jane could not be there.

The baby didn't interfere with her happy thoughts at all while she was enjoying the play.

But when she returned home, she ran up to her room and looked in the mirror to see if her stomach looked any different than it had before, because she suddenly worried that maybe Ruby and Tillie could tell. Nothing had changed, so she returned downstairs feeling reassured.

She was greeted in the kitchen with _Happy Birthday to You_, and as her family and friends sang, she thought about how strange it was to be celebrating her birthday while _The Thing _was inside.

When Marilla brought out her birthday cake, Anne wondered if it liked chocolate.


	20. Emily's Advice

Now that Anne knew Emily was aware of her condition, she began going back to Emily's house two afternoons a week, as she had before. Emily did not ask Anne any questions, but told her that if she wanted to talk about it, she certainly had a listening ear.

When Anne first began babysitting for Clara, she didn't really want to- Mrs. Hammonds' brood was fresh in her mind- but over time she had begun to enjoy taking care of Clara. Emily never yelled at her the way Mrs. Hammond did, and Emily's house was lovely, calm, and peaceful. Clara was a happy baby in a happy home.

But now, taking care of Clara seemed different, somehow, because Anne could not look at the baby without thinking of the one she was carrying. She could not take care of Clara without feeling she was _practicing_, and she did not like this.

One day she asked Emily, "How do you think you'd feel about Clara if she came to you differently?"

Emily was startled by the question.

"I mean," Anne went on. "If she wasn't your _husband's_. Or if you hadn't _wanted _to have a baby at all."

These would not be questions Anne could have asked had Emily not known of her predicament.

Emily thought about this. "I'm not sure. I think how I'd feel about her _before _I had her, and how I'd feel _after _I had her would be two different things."

"What do you mean?" Anne asked.

"I wouldn't be happy at all, I'd imagine. It doesn't sound like a very nice situation to be in. But _afterward_, well- just look at her!"

Anne smiled at Clara. But then she said, "But Emily, you're happy when you see her because you see _you_ and your _husband_ in her, don't you? You love _each other_, and you _wanted _her."

Emily considered that. Finally she admitted, "It _is _fun to see bits of yourself and your husband in your baby. You can tell she has my ears, already. And don't her eyes look like my husbands'? I think her eyebrows look like mine, though."

She looked at Anne. "But even if you don't have that part of things to look forward to, there will be others."

"Like what?" Anne asked somewhat despondently.

"Babies have chubby cheeks and fat little limbs, dimples in their elbows, big shining eyes and tiny little toes," Emily told her with a smile. "Every one of them. They don't _have _to look like you or like..._anyone..._to be _adorable_. They're all precious in their own special way."

That did not really help Anne, because she could not imagine finding her baby to be cute. If it looked like her, she would not be happy, because she did not want her baby to have her own awful red hair and a face full of freckles. But if her baby looked like...well, the other option wasn't good either.

As if reading her thoughts, Emily quickly said, "Besides, it isn't _just _their looks that make you love them! It's what they _do_. Every time Clara reaches her chubby little arms out toward you, Anne, wanting you to pick her up, doesn't it make you feel brighter somehow? Or...think of all the times you've made her_ laugh! _A baby's sweet giggles, and how they cling to you, well, those things endear you to them, too!"

Anne tried to think of this. A baby- her own baby- reaching its arms out to her, or _laughing- _but she was greeted with the unpleasant memory of Billy laughing at her. _What if it laughs and it sounds just like him?_

"It might be better not to have it at all," Anne said softly, picking up Clara's bunny and giving it to her.

"Not have it at all? What do you mean?" Emily asked, alarmed.

"I mean for it to go live somewhere else," Anne said, looking up at her. "What did you think I meant?"

"...Nothing. I don't know."

"Well, I thought about if maybe someone could take it away. Because maybe I won't want to _look_ at it."

"Anne...I'd wait on that," Emily cautioned. "You don't know how you'll feel. When you first see your baby, it's- there's just no describing it, and once you see it, it might change everything. If you make plans _now_, you're likely to break them."

"That's what Marilla says," Anne told her.


	21. Mr Blythe and a Big Decision

The week after Anne's party was a week Marilla spent hoping she hadn't led Anne down a path of corruption for taking her to the theatre to see a play. Anne and her friends had clearly _enjoyed _it, and Marilla was glad for that because she felt sorry for Anne- but it bothered her that she had taken Anne to the play without having first viewed it herself to be sure there were no unholy influences in it. Being written for children, she knew there shouldn't be any coarse language or crude humor, at least. But as it was, the play had absolutely no teaching of _values _in it at all- there had been no lesson at the end, no "moral of the story". There had only been animals that talked, and dancing fairies!

Marilla would not spoil Anne's birthday surprise. But she asked whether the Sunday School teacher would mind visiting Anne more often.

* * *

Anne knew she'd have to tell Gilbert's father her baby news, but she dreaded it. Each time she visited, she'd start to, and then stop. It was wearing on Gilbert, too, to keep such a secret from his father.

Finally Anne decided she must tell him before she started to show...because Rachel Lynde said it wouldn't be long, now.

When she came over to Gilbert's house after school, she decided that today would be the day.

But Gilbert and his father both had birthday presents to give. Anne was positively aching with the love they showed to her, and that made it almost impossible to bring up the bad news.

She opened Mr. Blythe's present first- a book, naturally. She was happy to see that it was an Elsie Dinsmore book, because Marilla would approve- provided she didn't read it on a Sunday, it being fiction.

Pulling off the rest of the wrapping to reveal the title, she saw that it was _Elsie's Motherhood._ A crushing weight sat on her throat and for a moment she couldn't speak.

John Blythe was unaware, and thought she was just happy with emotion over getting a book. "You mentioned that you'd read the first four Elsie books, so I tracked down the fifth one for you! ...You don't already have it, do you?"

Anne shook her head, unable to speak for a moment.

Then she said, "I haven't even _read _this one yet. I _have _read the first four- and the ninth. I know that means I've read them out of order, but I just read whatever I can get my hands on, and I have the ninth one because a matron at the home gave it to me. I don't have any others. It will be so nice to be able to fill in some of the gaps between the fourth and the ninth. Thank you, Mr. Blythe."

She leaned down and kissed him.

Gilbert was watching her, and looked concerned. He knew only that his father had ordered an Elsie book because Anne had mentioned reading the first four, but Gilbert did not know the title of the fifth. He hoped it wouldn't upset Anne, but it appeared to.

"Anne," he quickly said, pushing his gift toward her. "Open mine."

She smiled at him, their troubled eyes locking to each others'.

Anne took a deep breath and focused on the tiny package Gilbert gave her. It was a small gold chain. She gently picked it up and looked at it. There wasn't anything _on _it; it was just the chain.

"I...I saw ones with things on them- lockets and pendants and things, but...I just got a plain old chain," he said humbly. "Maybe we can pick out something to put on it together."

"I don't want anything on it," Anne said softly, thinking that he probably hadn't gotten something on the chain because he couldn't afford it. Or, rather, Mr. Blythe, since she didn't think Gilbert had money of his own, not working a job yet. She was pretty sure the gold chain wasn't _real _gold- and it didn't matter; she didn't care if it had _diamonds _on it- she didn't _want _diamonds, she just wanted _him_. She unclasped the chain and slipped it around her neck. "I love it."

She had tears in her eyes, but wiped them quickly away.

"Gilbert, I forgot that Marilla asked me to come home early today. Would you mind…?"

She hugged Mr. Blythe again and left to go out to the buggy.

"Anne, I'm sorry my father's present upset you," he said regretfully on the drive home.

"No," Anne said. "It...it shouldn't have. It's such a kind and generous gift…" She looked at him. "I was going to tell your father today, but I just _couldn't_. ...I'll tell him tomorrow."

He took her hand. "Are you sure you don't want me to tell him? You don't _have _to."

"No," she said. "I'm going to."

* * *

When Gilbert returned from taking Anne home, his father again thought he seemed bothered by something. He was quieter than usual, and more withdrawn. "I'm all right," Gilbert said when pressed. "Just thinking about some things."

His father nodded. "Is it school?"

Gilbert shook his head.

"Is it Anne?"

Gilbert hesitated, then shook his head that no, it wasn't Anne, regretful at being less than transparent with his dad.

But his father had seen the hesitation and said, "Why don't you want to talk about her?"

Gilbert looked at his dad, surprised, then smiled a little bit in spite of himself: they were so close that they could never really have secrets from each other.

"...I want to talk to you, dad, but...I told Anne I wouldn't say anything about what's going on with her, because she wants to tell you herself. But...I wish we _could_ talk about it. I'd really like to."

His dad looked as if he was considering this. "I understand. I think it's nice you're abiding by her wishes. But if you _didn't _tell me- if I just _knew_, on my own- would you be able to talk about it with me, then?"

Gilbert thought, and then nodded. "Yeah. I guess. As long as I'm not telling what she told me."

"Is it something about the two of you together?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said, deciding this was true. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Anything to do with the future?" he asked.

"Yeah, that too."

"Well, if it's to do with courting, or marriage, I'd prefer to have some input right now, because I can't count on being there when it happens, son."

"_Dad_," Gilbert said, disheartened.

Then he sat down and sighed. "I don't see why anything has to be different between me and Anne. But...I guess she thinks things are going to change."

"You mean as you two get older, and become adults?"

"No...I mean things are going to be changing _now- _soon." he finally looked up at his dad.

"Things are going to be changing soon?"

Gilbert nodded, biting his lip.

His dad stared at him for a long moment.

Gilbert wondered if his father was going to ask outright- but he didn't.

"What do _you _think?"

"I love her, dad. No matter what."

"Yes...I know. But if things might be changing- and these are some permanent changes- then how she lives her life is going to be different...and if you really think the two of you are in it for the long haul, then it's going to change how _you _live _your _life, too."

Gilbert shook his head, thinking. "I don't see why it has to. I'm still doing everything I planned on."

"But she isn't."

Gilbert stared at him a long moment. "I kept telling her it wouldn't change anything- that she could still do everything she planned on- going to Queens, becoming a teacher...but...that isn't true, is it? She can't do the things she planned on. Dad, I shouldn't have _told _her that. I just wanted her not to lose _hope_."

"Hope is a powerful thing to have," his father agreed. "But sometimes we have to be realistic, too."

* * *

The next day when Anne visited Gilbert's father, she began, "Mr. Blythe, I have something I need to tell you."

"Anne- do you want me to stay, or do you want to talk by yourself?" Gilbert asked quietly.

Anne squeezed his hand, and said, "Alone."

Mr. Blythe closed the door behind her. "Let's go and sit in the parlor," he said gently, wheeling his chair further into the house.

Anne was wringing her hands together nervously. She scolded herself over it, telling herself that Mr. Blythe already knew this was a potential outcome of what had happened to her, so it should not be frightening for her to say it. But it was.

"What do you want to tell me, Anne-girl?" Mr. Blythe said kindly, holding his hand out to grasp her shaking one.

"Well, the thing is...uh…"

She squeezed her eyes shut, not looking at him, and said, "IfoundoutI'mhavingababyandit'sawfulbutIhavetotellyouit'shappeningbecausesoonit'sgoingtoshowandIcan'tkeepitasecretanylonger."

Mr. Blythe would not have understood this message if he hadn't already surmised for himself that Anne was expecting from Gilbert's vague but meaning-filled conversation the previous day.

He squeezed her hand again. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, Anne, especially given the circumstances."

She nodded, taking a shaky breath. She was looking down at his hand holding hers.

"And I know," he continued, squeezing her hand again, "That you'll be just fine. You're a brave girl, and strong, because you've already risen up to meet so many challenges in life- nothing can get you down."

She finally looked up and gave him a watery smile. She squeezed his hand again, grateful that he existed in the world.

"I hope you know that. I'd like you to think of our house as being a second home...you have a home here with us. All right?"

"Thank you," Anne whispered.

"I know this changes some things-"

"No, it doesn't," Anne interrupted. "I won't _let _it. I'm still doing everything I planned on. Because I don't want to keep it. I decided last night. Marilla says not to make plans, but I'm sure about what I want. As soon as it's here, it'll be gone. I don't know where, but I'll figure it out. Then I can go to Queens and be a teacher and no one will ever need to know I had a baby."

Gilbert, waiting in the next room, looked up in surprise.

This was news to him.


	22. Announcing the Decision

"So that's what you want for sure, then?" Gilbert asked, taking Anne home.

She nodded firmly. "Absolutely. I have no need of it in my life, it wasn't welcome here in the first place."

"I understand that," Gilbert said, nodding slowly.

Anne continued confidently, "I don't want to change my plans, and I shouldn't have to. I can still do everything I wanted to do."

"You can," Gilbert agreed.

"As long as no one knows, or brings it up," Anne went on. "I'll have to just stay in the house- I can't let anyone in town see me, or they'd know. I suppose Marilla and Matthew can say I'm sick. Terribly, terribly ill, too ill to go outdoors at all."

Gilbert did not like the idea of someone pretending to be ill, when his own father had really been so ill. But then he decided that Anne pretending she was ill wasn't really far from the truth. So far the baby had brought her nothing but illness.

"I hope no one _guesses_," Anne said unhappily. "I can just imagine the talk- _That Anne Shirley engaged in indecent behavior and suddenly Marilla Cuthbert says she's too ill to leave the house for months and months, now you know what that means! _...Oh, no, Gilbert- that _is _what people will think!"

And suddenly her whole plan crumbled.

"What'll I do?" she said desperately.

Gilbert tried to sound reassuring. "No one is going to think that," he lied.

Anne was upset. "You're the one who suggested that idea in the first place, but-"

"I am?" Gilbert did not remember saying that.

"Yes," Anne told him. "You said it back when I came to your house that day, not long after it happened. When I ran out of school and hid in the woods. Remember? We talked about it- about how I was afraid I might have a baby and I wanted to keep people from _knowing- _and _you _said that maybe I could pretend to be sick and stay in the house, so that no one would have to know about it. And I felt better."

Gilbert remembered now that Anne had been so worried about having a baby and he had tried to think of a plan to keep her life as normal as possible- a way to hide the whole thing and go on with life.

And now it seemed she was prepared to do exactly that.

But it was different somehow, now, knowing that there truly was a baby, and it was no longer a mythical figure.

Anne continued, "Well, I'll have to stay in the house anyway, and _hope _people don't think that! Because I don't know what _else _to do. ...I just have to get through the next few months and then everything can go back to how it's supposed to be."

"I hope that'll work out for you, then," Gilbert said, wondering if it would.

Anne was confident: "Once it's gone, I can put this whole thing behind me."

* * *

Anne asked Marilla at dinner that night, "How long do I have before I'll have to take a break from school?"

Marilla hesitated. It bothered her that Anne referred to it as a _break_.

"Well, I'm not sure. It'll depend on when you start showing more visibly. Rachel thinks you don't have long, and I'm inclined to agree with her. But I don't suppose I can give you an actual date."

Anne nodded. "The Thing will come out-" _Anne refused to say_ _born- _"In August, the doctor said, right? So if I rest up a bit I'll be ready to go back to school in September."

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other.

"Anne," Marilla began slowly. "I don't think a month will be enough for you…you ought to rest longer than that."

She did not want to scare Anne, but Dr. Carter told her to expect a much longer convalescence, being so young and having such a small frame, than he would for someone older.

Anne shook her head. "I can't, Marilla, because I'll miss the beginning of school. It'll be hard to catch up if I skip the first few weeks."

Again Marilla and Matthew exchanged a glance.

Matthew said, "I thought you might stay home with me- wouldn't you like that? We could be together all day. I won't have to miss you like I do while you're at school."

Marilla understood what Matthew was doing, but she shook her head at him, thinking that it was better to be truthful than to pretend with her.

She said- being honest, but with tenderness- "I thought you understood, dear, that you wouldn't be able to go back to school. I'm sorry if I've said something to mislead you. Perhaps we should have talked more about it- I feel badly that you misunderstood..."

Anne shook her head. "I know I couldn't go, having a- well, having _The Thing_. But if I don't _have _it- if it went to live somewhere else, _then _I could go back, couldn't I? If no one_ knew?_ Because, see, I was thinking- if I could just stay in- and I know it would be difficult, but I'm determined to do it- then I could wait for The Thing to come out in August, and then I'd be able to go on with school as planned. I hate to ask the two of you to _lie _for me, _really_, but if you _could _just pretend I'm sick- just _imagine _I'm sick- and Dr. Carter could go _along _with it- why, he could even spread the word that I've contracted malaria or something just _terrible_, and then no one would try to come see me. They'd all stay away, and then later I could go back to school!"

Anne picked up her fork and took a bite of her meatloaf.

Matthew and Marilla again looked at each other. Anne noticed this time, and it bothered her how often they did this, now. As if they were always thinking something they weren't telling her-

"We could do that," Marilla began slowly. "I suppose. But what about the ba-"

Anne cut her off before the word could be uttered. "The Thing can go live somewhere else."

"Yes, you said that- but where?"

Anne shrugged. "I don't know. I'll have to figure something out- find someone who'll agree to take it. I'd ask you to help me, Marilla, but then if you start asking around, people will know why. I'll have to do it in some way where my _anonymity _is guaranteed."

"I don't like the idea of making plans," Marilla said slowly. "I know I've said it before. You can think it's all settled in your mind, and find someone, and get them all ready to take the baby- and then have a change of heart and decide not to give it to them at all. I think it's best if you wait and see how you feel once you've actually seen it and lived with it. You won't be dragging someone else's hopes into the situation only to back out on them in the end."

"All right, then," Anne said agreeably. "I won't look for someone right now. I don't really have to worry about finding someone, anyway- I know churches in big cities have foundling boxes. I suppose that'll work if nothing else does."

Anne shook her head as if to get the whole thing out of her mind, and went back to eating.


	23. Disguise

"It isn't real to her," Rachel explained to Marilla the next afternoon.

"She accepted that this was happening," Marilla told her. "She used to pretend it wasn't true, and that worried me. I was relieved when she finally spoke the words."

"But admitting it's going to happen," Rachel told her wisely, "Is not the same thing as understanding what it will mean for her."

"I see that now," Marilla replied. "She thinks she'll deliver it and then just go on with life as if nothing's happened, and I don't think that's realistic. ...I know I haven't any experience in the matter of having babies, but I don't think it's possible to lose a baby- even voluntarily- and not have the experience irrevocably affect you."

* * *

When Anne got home from school, she sat down to do her homework at the kitchen table. She kept putting her hands on her stomach, feeling it. After noticing this, Marilla said, "Are you feeling all right? Are you hurting?"

Anne shoulders slumped. "I can't think about my school work." She looked up at Marilla. "I feel..._big_. I kept telling myself I was bloated from eating my lunch too fast. But I don't think that's it. I don't feel full."

Marilla nodded slowly. "We knew at some point things would change, didn't we?"

Anne looked miserable.

Marilla said, "You don't look a _bit _different. If you're noticing changes, they're not noticeable to anyone but yourself."

"Yes, they are!" Anne exclaimed. "Marilla, look!" She jumped up from the table and came over to Marilla. She started to pull her dress up to her stomach.

"Anne, stop that this instant!" Marilla said, surprised. "Put your dress down! If you want to look, do it up in your room, not in the middle of the kitchen in broad daylight. My goodness, what if poor Matthew walked in- or Jerry- you'd cause them heaps of embarrassment!"

Anne sat down again, crossing her arms.

Marilla asked, "Are you finding your homework difficult? I know you aren't enjoying geometry. But it's nice to see you giving it such a good effort."

Anne didn't answer. She was staring at her book, but still holding on to her stomach.

Marilla tried to talk to her again. "Are you getting hungry? We're having beans and cornbread. It won't be ready for another hour, but you're welcome to fix a snack before then."

Anne said, "No. I can't eat. I don't want to get bigger from eating too much."

Marilla sighed. "Anne, I thought we'd already been through that. Your stomach is going to start looking different whether you eat or not. It won't change a thing about your situation, so you may as well eat all you need to."

Anne didn't answer her. Finally she took a deep breath and whispered to herself, "I just need to get through the next few months. Just the next few months, Then it'll be behind me." She tucked her braid behind her ears and went back to her work.

* * *

When Marilla came up to say goodnight to Anne, Anne was standing in front of her mirror in her underwear, looking at herself on each side.

She looked up when Marilla came in. "See?" Anne told her. "You can see the horrible thing from a mile away!"

Marilla walked in and looked at her. She could tell, even through underwear, that something _had _changed in Anne. It wasn't anywhere close to looking like a baby, but her stomach _had _seemed to pop a bit, as if it was preparing to make room.

"There's hardly a thing there," Marilla said. "I wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't pointed it out."

"I want to go to _school_, Marilla," Anne said, upset. "But I _can't_, because everyone will _see!"_

"No one will see a thing," Marilla argued. But then she said, "I'll make you a new pinafore. I'll work on it this weekend. I'll make it frilly, with layers of ruffles. That'll hide anything that's coming...for a little while, anyway."

Anne nodded, trying to accept this. Ordinarily she'd be thrilled to have a new pinafore- and with ruffles!- but the joy was dampened because it wasn't a gift, it was a disguise.

* * *

Marilla worked quickly and the new pinafore was ready Monday morning. Anne was afraid that when she walked in, the pinafore would not hide her tiny expansion. Worse, she feared that someone would pick up on the fact that the pinafore was an attempt to conceal something.

But no one did- at first.

"Oh, Anne," Ruby squealed. "It's beautiful! _Ever _so many ruffles- you're so lucky!"

Josie, nearby, gave a critical appraisal. "It _is _nice, Anne," she began, surprising Anne. "But you'd think the Cuthbert's could give you a new _dress_, instead of those dingy brown and gray ones you wear. Oh well, at least the pinafore is decent at hiding them."

Anne was about to say something to Josie, but decided not to. She lifted her head up high and walked past Josie to her seat. The other girls followed Anne, infuriating Josie.

Once the girls were sitting together- _away_ from Josie- Jane said to Anne, "I think your dresses are sweet, Anne. Your brown one makes me think of chocolate cake. And your gray one makes your eyes stand out. I always think wearing gray makes one look terribly grown up and elegant."

Anne smiled at her. She thought Jane was lying to her, but it came from good intentions.

But then Ruby said, "It's good you have this; it'll help to hide things when you're showing."

Anne froze.

Ruby went on, innocent and serious, "Shouldn't we work more on your wedding plans, Anne? So far all we've done is decide on flowers and the punch! And I wrote out invitations for you. We still need to work out the menu and decide on what we'll wear."

Then she whispered, "You don't have very long, and my mother says you ought to get on with it before things start showing, because then it doesn't look _quite_ so bad. Now, I've been thinking about what we could do with your hair-"

Anne looked at Diana with an unspoken plea- _Don't tell._

Diana put an arm around Anne. "Ruby," Diana said sternly, "You keep thinking the things you heard from Anne about a baby are definite and they're _not_. Nothing is definite. So stop your wedding plans this instant!"

Anne leaned into Diana, comforted.

Jane was looking at Anne, biting her lip.

* * *

When Jane got home, she brought her school books into the parlor.

Her mother was sitting on the sofa working on new curtains she was making for Prissy's bedroom.

"Hello, dear," Mrs. Andrews said, without looking up.

Her voice was devoid of any warmth, but Jane clung to the word "_dear"._ She thought sadly to herself, _Maybe someday she'll forgive me... But I don't think I was wrong to tell the Cuthberts that my brother did that! I wish Mother and Father would have admitted it to them, so I wouldn't have felt I had to..._

"Hello, Mother," she said softly, sitting down and getting her math book out.

After a few minutes, Jane asked, "Mother...?"

"Hmm?"

"...How long does it take for a baby to show?"

Her mother looked up in surprise.

"I mean, if a person's expecting...how long does it take?"

Her mother's face tightened. "If you're wondering when...that girl...is going to cause us embarrassment by association, I don't know and I haven't the slightest interest in discussing it."


	24. The Second Principle of Magic

When Anne walked home- with Gilbert by her side- she was still upset about Ruby. But Gilbert had not heard any of that, and Anne did not want to tell him, because she didn't want him to think- like Ruby- that her new pinafore had anything to do with what was happening in her midsection.

* * *

"I have a little surprise for you, Anne," Marilla said. "I thought we'd go to the library in Carmody this afternoon. We won't stay too long; I don't want to be gone when it's getting dark in the evening. But I want to look for some books, and I thought you could as well."

Marilla thought it would be nice to get Anne some new books to read because she feared that soon Anne would not have school as a distraction.

Marilla left Anne in the children's section and went to look at books on child care- her first thought was on the care of an infant, and then she began to look for books for mothers of young girls. She knew there would not be books about how to raise young, unmarried girls who were expecting, though she couldn't help wishing there were.

Eventually she left the nonfiction to go find Anne. But before she could even head toward the children's section, she nearly bumped into Anne in a nearby aisle.

"Oh, Anne!" Marilla exclaimed, her hand over her heart. "You gave me a fright."

Anne was holding a book close to her, as if to cover the title.

"Why didn't you stay in the children's room?" Marilla asked. "Were you looking for me?"

Anne nodded. "I didn't see you, so I just started wandering around."

"Well, what have you got there? Did you find something inspiring to read?" Marilla asked. She felt happy that Anne had wound up in the aisle that had a sign saying "_Spiritual material_".

Anne hesitated. Finally Marilla took the book from her. The title read _James G. Frazer's Principles of Magic._

"Anne!" Marilla was appalled. "Anne, this is a book on-" Marilla's loud exclamation changed to a hushed voice- "on _witchcraft!"_

Marilla glanced again at the sign that said "_Spiritual material" _with new suspicion. She now saw that there weren't _just _good, wholesome Christian books. There were all sorts of things there- strange religions she'd never heard of, and books about contacting the dead through seances- _spiritualism_, they seemed to call it.

Marilla pushed the book back into the shelf and wiped her hands on her dress as if to remove any stray bits of mysticism that may have clung to her fingers.

She pulled Anne away from it and found a _suitable _book- a collection of sermons on fortitude, written by a Presbyterian missionary- and led Anne over to a nearby table. "Sit here and read this," she said firmly. "And pray that you won't be led astray by whatever evil it is that you just allowed into your mind! I'll come back and collect you when I'm finished looking for books."

Anne sat a minute until Marilla had gone back to whatever she had been looking at, and then she softly and quietly moved from her chair and slipped back into the aisle with the spooky books. She knew Marilla wanted what was best for her, and she didn't _mean _to be defiant, but she _had _to know what the second principle of magic was! She'd just read the first- _"that like produces life, or that an effect resembles its cause"-_ but what was the second one? She quietly found the book, and after checking to see that Marilla wasn't nearby, she quickly found the page she'd been reading.

_What is it_, she thought, anxious to know.

Then she found it:

_things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed._

Anne stared at the page. When she heard footsteps, she quickly pushed the book back into it's spot and held her breath. But the passerby wasn't Marilla. Thankfully, she tiptoed back to her chair and pretended to read about how the Presbyterian missionary saved souls.

The ride home she was quiet.

"You're not upset about me not letting you read that book, are you?" Marilla asked after Anne had given her short, frosty responses to her attempts at conversation. "Because I have a _duty_, you know, as your guardian- and- and, well, as a _mother _to you, now- to keep you on the right track. And books such as..._that_...will do nothing for your moral character."

Anne shook her head. "I'm not upset."

"You certainly seem to be pouting," Marilla scolded. "There are hundreds of perfectly suitable books for you. Why your attention was attracted to such a book is beyond my understanding!"

* * *

"I changed my mind," Anne said as she and Gilbert opened their math books to work on their geometry the next afternoon. "About _The Thing_. ...I'll have to let it stay with me after all."

Marilla stopped in her tracks and listened.

"Oh," Gilbert reacted in surprise. "What made you decide?"

"I can't get rid of it," was all she said. She sounded glum.

"Well," Gilbert said, "I'm glad."

"Why?" Anne asked.

Gilbert didn't say anything for a moment. Finally he said, "Because I don't know how that works- I don't know if you'd be allowed to take it back if you changed your mind. ...I just hate to think of you being unhappy. That's all."

* * *

Marilla was surprised as well, and after Gilbert left, she asked Anne about it.

"It was that book," Anne said. "At the library."

"The one about the missionary?"

"No, the..._other_ one. The one you didn't want me to read."

"Oh, goodness. Whatever did it make you think of?" Marilla asked, worried.

Anne tried to explain. "It said that...that...things stay _connected _to each other. Even at a distance_\- _even after being _separated- _and that they'll _always affect _each other!" Anne took a breath. "Marilla, even if it goes away- and I never, ever have to lay eyes on it- it'll always be- be-" she did not know how to continue.

"It'll always be in your mind," Marilla said gently. "It isn't something you can forget and pretend never existed. Is that it?"

Anne nodded, shaky.

"I think that makes sense, though I'm not happy with how you came to this conclusion," Marilla said hesitantly. "But I am grateful you realize this now. It's been worrying me that you seemed to think if you left it, you'd just go back to life as usual. We _can _find a new home for it, Anne- if that's what you eventually settle on- but I thought you needed to understand that finding another home for it does not mean your life will go back to exactly how it used to be. Becoming a mother- whatever way you become one, and whatever happens to the baby- it _changes _you."

Anne nodded. But then tears sprang to her eyes. "If I _could _forget about it, then I could leave it. Because I wouldn't be thinking about it anymore. But now that I know I _can't_ forget- I- I don't think I _can _leave it. Even if I don't _want _it. I...I have to let it stay." But then she looked up at Marilla's face, searching for answers. "But what if I don't _feel _anything for it?"

Marilla took Anne into her arms and held her close.

"I don't know how it would feel, Anne, to have to accept a baby under such difficult circumstances," she said softly. "But I do know, from experience, just how easy it is to fall in love with a child you didn't plan on."


	25. Baby Talk

"And now she's back to us keeping the baby," Marilla was telling Matthew while Anne was away visiting Gilbert's father.

"How d'you feel about it, Marilla?" her brother asked.

"I don't expect we'd send it _away_, would we?" Marilla said- as if sending away an unexpected child was something she would never, ever do. This amused Matthew, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Be a lot of work," he pointed out.

"Yes, it certainly would be," Marilla agreed. "Does that mean you think it's a bad decision?"

"Well, now, I wouldn't want to give it to someone _else_," he said, thinking about it. "Anne's _our _little girl. And any little one she has is ours, too, in a way. It ought to be here, with us."

Marilla told him, "Rachel thinks Anne's life would be easier if she found another home for it, and she's not wrong."

Matthew thought about this, and finally said, "Having an _easier _life don't mean a thing if she's miserable for it."

Marilla stared at him. Finally she nodded and said, "No matter what she feels right _now_, I don't think she'd do well being separated from it."

Matthew said, "Wonder how she'll feel when the time comes."

"We'll have to wait and see," Marilla said with a sigh. "All we can do in the meantime is love her and take care of her."

* * *

John Blythe agreed with his son in being happy that Anne had a change of heart. Though he would support Anne in whatever decision she made, he, like Gilbert, worried that if Anne gave it up and later changed her mind, she might not be able to get it back again, and the thought of her having to live with that worried the both of them.

* * *

Even though Anne decided she'd better keep the baby, she wasn't happy about it. To her, it was still _The Thing_, and she frequently referred to it as such, until finally Marilla had enough of hearing that, and exclaimed, "Goodness gracious, Anne, would you please stop referring to the baby as _The Thing?! _It makes me _cringe _every time I hear it! Especially the way you make your voice sound so dramatic at the end there- you sound as if you're talking about some ghoulish monster from those dreadful magazines you read with John Blythe!"

"How do _you _know about those?" Anne asked, looking at her in surprise.

"Because…" Marilla trailed off, then finally sputtered, "Because _I_ read them with him, too!"

And then she went out of the room, because she did not appreciate the way Anne was grinning at her.

* * *

The next week, Anne's stomach had expanded a little more, and though Marilla told her it was hardly noticeable at all, Anne worried constantly.

The pinafore was doing very well in hiding it, because any extra fluff in the front could be attributed to all the flounces and ruffles.

But Anne wondered how long it would last before even the pinafore was not enough.

Anne still went to Emily's house to take care of Clara two afternoons a week, but Gilbert came over nearly every day that Anne was at home, to the point that Matthew and Marilla simply expected him to be there and any day he wasn't, they were surprised not to see him.

One afternoon as they sat in the parlor- not doing school work for a change- Anne told him the truth about her pinafore: "Marilla made it for me because it can hide me a little bit," she said mournfully.

"Hide you?" he asked- until her meaning hit him.

"Oh," he said, understanding. "Is it...is it...showing now?"

Anne nodded miserably. "Marilla says it's barely there, but I think it's _awful_."

Gilbert wasn't sure what to say. "Well," he finally told her, "I wouldn't have known _at all_\- you don't _look_ any different."

"I'm glad you think so."

And Gilbert decided he would _keep _thinking so- even when her stomach was popped out like a balloon, he would steadfastly tell her that it wasn't a bit noticeable.

"_The Thi_…" Anne began to say, but she trailed off until finally she whispered, "The _baby_..."

Gilbert noticed that it was the first time her baby was not The Thing.

Anne saw his expression and said, "Marilla's angry because she doesn't like me calling it _The Thing_. I don't see why it matters what I call it. It can't hear me, can it?"

"I don't know," Gilbert said, interested in this. "I wonder how much they can hear in the womb. Or see. I wonder if they open their eyes yet."

Then seeing Anne's face, he said quickly, "It doesn't matter if it can hear you or not- it won't understand what you're saying."

"Then it shouldn't matter _what_ I call the wretched little thing," Anne said, disgusted.

Gilbert held in a sigh. He told her- his tone light- "Maybe she just doesn't want you to get in the _habit_ of calling it that. Can you imagine someone coming up to you in town, leaning over the pram and saying '_What a sweet little girl, what's her name?'_ and you say- out of habit- '_The Thing's _name is Cordelia."

Anne laughed at that.

But then her face turned serious.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't _have_ a pram. And I don't _need_ one- I'm not taking it _anywhere_. Ever!"

"Why not?" Gilbert asked. "What if you want to go into town for something?"

"I won't," Anne said. "Unless I can leave it alone at home. I'll leave it all alone and go out by myself. I'm not taking it anywhere. It's too embarrassing. I know I can't keep it a secret that _The Thi_\- the baby!…exists. But letting anyone _see _it, that's just too awful!"

Then she looked sad. "Besides, I don't want the _Andrews _to see it... I mean, I don't think they really _want _to see it, anyway. But I don't like the way they look at _me_, like they think I'm revolting! Imagine how they'll look at the _baby_\- it'll probably be even _worse_. …They'll _hate _the baby because it made it impossible for them to pretend that Billy didn't _do _anything."

"Maybe they won't look at it like that," Gilbert suggested. "Maybe if they see it, they'll have nicer feelings toward it. Because they'll realize now they have a-"

Gilbert stopped himself.

He was about to say_ a grandchild_\- that the Andrews _might _become nicer toward Anne and the baby because instead of seeing the baby as a problem, they'd realize that it was- in fact- their grandchild.

But he changed his mind quickly, thinking that even though Anne didn't want the Andrews to be unkind to the baby, them being unkind might be better for her than if they decided they liked the baby and wanted to be involved in it's life.

So all he said was, "I'd say you can all co-exist in this town without having to interact with each other."

"Really," Anne stated, doubt in her voice.

"Sure," Gilbert said. "If you see each other in town, you can just go your separate ways... If you see them in a shop, you can always go on to another shop and wait for them to leave. Or if you _have _to see each other, you can pass by without any pleasantries exchanged. There's no reason you have to give them any thought at all. Ignoring them works."

Anne nodded slowly, but then shook her head. It was easy to say 'just ignore them and move on'. ...But the thought of being in town, carrying a baby- and Mr. and Mrs. Andrews _seeing _the baby- ugh, it sounded horrendous.

Anne was not the only one thinking of what it would be like to see the baby around town.

Mrs. Andrews was unable to remove this picture from her head. While she had told Jane she refused to think about Anne's situation, the fact was that she couldn't _stop _thinking about it.

Knowing _when _Billy had...done what he had done...Mrs. Andrews was easily able to work out a due date, and when August came, she didn't know how she would cope.


	26. Noticeable

Anne had taken to looking at herself in the mirror all around each night before bed. It seemed every week she was sticking out more, and she wished that she could wait until school was out before she got bigger, because each day at school became scarier and scarier as she was afraid someone would notice. ...Still, she wanted to finish the school year, and resolutely clung to the unrealistic belief that she could make it that long.

Marilla, too, was keeping watch, as she realized _she _would have to be the one to make the decision about when Anne would stop going to school. It was not realistic for Anne to think that she might be able to make it to the end of the school year without anyone noticing.

* * *

"Do you think Anne looks wider around the middle?" Jane asked Diana, Ruby, and Tillie one afternoon while Anne was using the privy for the third time.

Diana swallowed. "No, not at all."

Tillie said, "I think she does. At first I thought it was just her new pinafore, but yesterday I saw her smoothing her pinafore down and the front of her looked like it was sticking out."

Ruby said, "I think she does, too. I wish she'd let us get on with the wedding! I made so many plans! I've devoted every waking moment to making the most beautiful wedding. I even figured out how to do her hair. I'm going to make a crown out of flowers. It'll be _radishing_."

"I think you mean _ravishing_, Ruby," Diana told her.

"Ravishing, then," Ruby corrected herself. "I wish she could wear a veil, but my mother says she can't because of- _you know."_

Jane was uncomfortable with Ruby's wedding talk, particularly the bit about the veil. Even though she herself hadn't done anything, she felt guilty by association. She tried to remember that she was not responsible for her brother's choices, but she couldn't help feeling a sense of duty to Anne.

Diana was saying, "You know, Ruby, _if _she is expecting-" because Diana would not tell Anne's secret- "-maybe she won't want to get married. Or maybe the Cuthbert's won't let her."

Ruby's eyes were wide. "My mother says it's a wicked thing to have a baby and not be married. Of course, what Billy did in the first place was a terribly wicked thing. _But what's done is done,_ my mother says,_ so Anne needs to right the situation! _...I'm _sure_ she'll go through with the wedding. Anne's a nice girl and she wouldn't want to do anything wrong, would she?"

Jane spoke up. "If she gets married, she'll have to leave school."

Ruby said, "Even if she doesn't get married, she'll still have to leave school."

Jane sighed. "When I asked if you all thought Anne was getting bigger around the middle, I hoped you'd all say no! I was hoping it was just _me_ thinking that." Then she said, shaking her head sadly, "I wish Josie hadn't spread rumors. You know my parent's think Anne's expecting because of Josie."

_And I have a feeling they're right, _she added inside her own mind.

"Well, if she is," Tillie asked, "What are your parents going to do?"

Jane shrugged. "They gave her all that money, I can't imagine they'll do anything else for her. ...My mother wants to pretend Billy didn't do anything."

"What _about_ Billy?" Diana couldn't help asking.

"Billy doesn't care a thing about Anne," Jane said glumly. "I know Anne wouldn't want him coming round anyway, but it bothers me that he doesn't even say anything about it, apologize, offer to help, _something_...he's so thoughtless. He only cares about himself."

"How's he doing with having school at home?" Ruby wanted to know.

"He hates it," Jane said. "He doesn't like the tutor my parents hired."

"If Anne has to leave school," Tillie began slowly. "I wonder if Billy will come back." She shivered. "I don't think he _ought _to. What if he tries that with another girl?"

Diana tried to move the conversation away from Billy and from Anne's midsection, but was unsuccessful as Ruby began discussing the lemon squares she was learning how to make, that would be just perfect to serve at Anne's reception.

But when Anne returned from the privy, all conversation came to an abrupt stop.

"What?" Anne asked, alarmed as she looked around at the suddenly silent group.

"Nothing," Diana said putting her arm out as Anne sat down. "We're just glad you're back."

* * *

"I think everyone was talking about me at lunch today," Anne said unhappily at dinner that night. "They were speaking in hushed voices and they stopped when I came in. I asked Diana what they were talking about and she said _nothing_. ...She wasn't imaginative enough to come up with a story like _I _would have-"

"You mean a lie, Anne," Marilla said, eyebrows raised. "_Coming up with an imaginative story_? That would be a lie."

Anne bit her lip. "Well, I think they were talking about me! And I don't like it."

Marilla took a deep breath. "If the others are beginning to notice, then we must think about our next steps."

"Our next steps?" Anne asked fearfully, knowing exactly what Marilla meant.

"When would be a good time to stop school."

"There _is_ no good time to stop school!" Anne cried desperately, tears forming, even though she knew she would not be able to attend forever.

Matthew was calm. "It won't be so bad. It'll be a nice thing, to have you home with us. ...You don't know how much I miss you when you're away."

Anne tried to smile, knowing how much he loved her.

"How long do I have?" she then asked sadly, looking at Marilla.

"Well...I'd say you don't have long left. Maybe a couple of weeks. We'll have to see."

"A couple of weeks?" Anne's eyes changed. She had thought Marilla might say a _month_ or two. Not a couple of weeks.

"You've noticed the change is becoming more rapid," Marilla explained. "It's best to leave before the fact cannot be denied."

"I know," Anne said, "But…"

She was going to cry, she knew it, and she did not want to sit there and cry. She left the table and ran up to her room.

She was still laying there when there was a knock at the door. She assumed it was Matthew or Marilla, of course, and with a shaky sigh, she said, "Come in."

Footsteps approached and a body sat at the very edge of her bed. A hand reached out and touched her shoulder, but Anne already knew who it was- she could tell by the scent.

"Anne," a voice said.

Anne turned around as she sat up.

"Gilbert?" she said in surprise, wiping her eyes.

He smiled at her.

"Does Marilla know you're up here?"

He almost laughed. "Of course. Did you think I snuck into the house and crept up here by myself?" He said softly, touching her cheek where it was wet.

"I'm just surprised she let you back up here," Anne said. "I thought she wouldn't allow that anymore."

Gilbert answered, "Well, she sighed and muttered something about impropriety, but then told me I may as well go on up and see you, because you probably weren't going to come down if I didn't."

Anne smiled and her hand found his.

But then she looked worried. "Is your father all right? You didn't come over because he needed something…?"

Gilbert shook his head. "No, he's fine. I came over to get my math book. We never really got around to doing our homework today- not that I'm disappointed, it was nice to just sit and talk- but after dinner I started to and then realized I left my book here. So I came to get it."

"Oh. It must be downstairs, then. I can go find it for you," Anne said, starting to get up. She rubbed her back.

"I can go down and get it, if you tell me where you put it. …Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"My back hurts," Anne said. "It's been hurting a lot lately."

That was when she realized she wasn't wearing her pinafore. Due to the empire waist of her dress, she still had plenty of room in it, but her stomach was sticking out and she did not have her pinafore on to cover it. She brought her arms around herself in an attempt to hide it.

"What's wrong?" he asked quickly, seeing how fast she had covered her stomach. "Are you in pain?"

Anne blushed. "No. I just…I didn't think about…could you hand me my pinafore?"

He got up and retrieved it from where she'd thrown it over her desk chair. She tied it quickly around herself.

"So your back's hurting?" he asked, feeling bad for her.

"Yes, it's awful. ...Just like everything else!"

Gilbert was inclined to reach out and rub her back, but refrained, not wanting her to think he was being inappropriate.

"So what happened?" he finally asked.

"I just got upset. …Gilbert, I don't want to stop going to school."

"Is it getting to be that time?" Gilbert asked gently.

"Yes. Marilla says I probably only have another week or two," Anne stopped talking because she thought she might start crying all over again.

This time Gilbert did reach out to her. Anne leaned into him.

After a moment she got up off her bed and held her hand out to him. "Let's go find your math book," she said. "I don't see much point in learning any more of it, now, since I won't be there to take the unit test at the end of the month, but I'll sit with you while you work on it."

"No, you've got to do it, too," Gilbert said. "You don't want to go through life without the enjoyment of geometry, do you?"

Anne had to laugh. "Maybe I won't miss _all_ of school."


	27. School Comes to a Close

"I think we should plan on Friday being your last day," Marilla said on Monday morning. "I thought we had maybe another week, but- now, Anne- don't cry! Your eyes will be all red when you get to school!"

Looking out the window, she saw Gilbert was on his way. "All right," Anne said, taking a deep breath and trying to stop the tears she felt coming on.

She left the house, keeping her head up.

"Hi, Gilbert," she said, trying hard to sound cheerful.

"Hi, Anne," he answered, smiling.

...Sometimes Anne ached at the way his whole face brightened up when he saw her.

She fell into step with him and he asked how she was.

"I'm perfectly well, thank you," she answered cheerfully.

"Your back's not hurting today?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh. You remembered," she said, stopping. She didn't like the reminder of her back hurting while she was trying so hard to think only of happy things- things that did not involve having a baby.

"Of course I did!" he said with almost a laugh of disbelief that she thought he'd forget.

"Well, it's not going to bother me today. I am going to be as light and free as a bluebird today. And just as cheerful."

He smiled.

When Anne got to school, she took out her homework- the math that Gilbert had insisted she do. She was glad to have it to turn in, after all. Even if she was leaving, Mr. Phillips didn't know that, and he might have been unkind to her if she didn't do her homework.

And that made her begin to worry about Mr. Phillips. Did she have to tell him? Would Marilla tell him? When did he need to know- and what if he was mean to her in the time she had left? Did he have to know _why _she wasn't coming back?

She looked around the school room. What would she tell everyone? Could she just leave with no notice, and not show up the next day? Would everyone wonder why she hadn't come back?

Maybe she ought to just tell them.

No, that would be awful. But what other reason would she have for leaving? ...Maybe she could tell them that she couldn't go to school anymore because her family needed help on the farm. Yes, that would work- lots of children didn't go to school because their families needed them to work. ...But how would she explain the baby that appeared?

She felt very discouraged. Diana nudged her. "Anne, what's wrong?" she whispered after Mr. Phillips took their math papers.

"I'll tell you at lunch," she whispered._ I might as well tell all the girls at lunch that this is the last week I'll be coming to school...there's no sense in dragging it out. _

When lunchtime came, Anne was so nervous she could not eat, despite being desperately hungry and Marilla packing her almost twice the amount of food she used to.

_Maybe I'll just wait til my last day to tell them. No, no- if I do that, I'll feel jittery all week long and dread it every moment. Better just out with it, as Gilbert used to say, in one fail swoop._

Anne thought she'd tell them at the _end_ of lunch, so they wouldn't have time to ask questions. But she was starving, and she felt she could not eat because she was too nervous. She decided to tell them quickly, to appease her nervousness so that she could finally delve into her food.

"Anne, what is it?" Jane asked worriedly, noticing that Anne, despite how hungry she looked, was just playing with her food.

Anne waited until she saw that Josie had left to go eat with the older girls.

She cleared her throat. "Um," she looked up. Diana, Ruby, Tillie, and Jane were all staring at her, waiting for what she was going to say.

"I need to tell you something."

"Well, go on, then," Ruby said, prompting her.

"I'm withdrawing from school. Friday will be my last day."

She did not say anything else. She did not explain _why_ she was withdrawing; there was no need. She looked down, then, because she could not bear to look at them.

Diana stared at her. She was the only one who already knew about the baby, so the news, to her, was terribly sad, but not surprising. She put her arm around Anne, comforting her. Anne, grateful, leaned in to her.

For Ruby, who always thought Anne was expecting, anyway, the news was met with mixed feelings. "Why, Anne, I didn't think of you _really _leaving school!"

"Ruby," Tillie said, "You _just _said the other day that she'd have to stop going to school!"

Then, turning back to Anne, Tillie- who had not known for sure about the baby until this moment- said, "Gosh, I just can't believe it, Anne. I'm awful sorry."

Ruby wailed, near tears, "Tillie, I _know _I said she'd have to leave but I never thought she really _would!"_

And suddenly she burst into tears.

Absurdly, the focus of the conversation turned to Ruby and they were all trying to comfort her, even Anne. "It'll be all right, Ruby," Anne said. "Don't cry. It'll be all right."

Once Ruby got ahold of herself- still loudly snuffling- she gave her whole brownie to Anne. "You have this, Anne. I'm too terribly distrout to eat a bite."

"You're...what?" Anne asked.

"Nothing," Diana said, shaking her head at Ruby. "Anne, are you sure you _have _to leave? Maybe if Miss Cuthbert writes to the school board-"

"I'm exceedingly joyful that my absence will cause such great sorrow, because it means I have the truest of friends in you all," Anne interrupted, herself near tears. "But Diana, even if they let me stay- and they _won't- _I just _couldn't_\- It would be too agonizingly humiliating to attend!"

Jane had been quiet in all this. "Excuse me," she finally said, and she got up and left. She did not come back until lunchtime was over, so no one had a chance to speak to her again.

* * *

When school was over, Anne was bid farewell with tearful hugs from Tillie and Ruby.

"I'll be here tomorrow- and the rest of the week, too," Anne told them, though their responses were making _her_ cry, too.

Jane left very quickly after school and did not speak to any of them.

* * *

"Friday's the day," Anne told Gilbert on their way home. She tried to sound light about it- determined to take it as cheerfully as she could...but Gilbert knew her too well.

He looked at her, and stopped walking.

Anne stopped, too, but didn't say anything to him.

He pulled her into a hug. They stayed like that for- well, neither of them knew how long- until finally Anne pulled away, wiping her eyes, and Gilbert had to wipe his, too.

"Could we do our homework together, still?" he asked, brushing her hair from her eyes.

Anne smiled sadly at him. Her homework seemed so far away from anything that had any meaning to her now. But she loved Gilbert, so she said yes.

* * *

When Jane came home, she went up to her room, locked her door, climbed into her cupboard, and cried.

* * *

When Jane came down to dinner, only Prissy asked her what was wrong.

But Jane would not answer.

Miss Winston- the teacher who had been engaged for Prissy and Billy- also noticed, and though she tried to talk to Jane that evening, Jane would not talk to her, either.

* * *

Because Anne knew she would not be around for any upcoming tests- and with her growing disdain for geometry- she had a hard time feeling motivated to do her homework. She still enjoyed her grammar and writing homework, and geography, but she really had to push herself to bother with geometry at all. She only did so because Gilbert wouldn't let her give up on it, and because she did not want Mr. Phillips to scold her for not doing it.

Mr. Phillips would not be told until the very last day, in order to save Anne from him asking her any questions. Marilla and Matthew would pick her up after school on Friday, and they would wait until the students were all out of the building, and then they would go in together, leaving Anne out in the buggy.

"But what are you going to _say_ to him?" Anne begged to know.

"Nothing specific. Just that we are withdrawing you from school," Marilla told her. "There is no need to tell him our personal business."

"But he's going to _ask_ you," Anne said desperately.

"He can ask away," Matthew told her. "That don't mean we have to tell."

"Yes," Marilla agreed. "School is not compulsory. We are under no obligation to give a reason at all. I will simply tell him that you will no longer attend, and that's that. Not everyone sends their children to school."

* * *

"What is it you want to make?" Mrs. Andrews asked Jane tiredly. "A cake?"

"No," Jane explained. "I want to make five little cakes."

It was Thursday afternoon, and Jane had decided to make Anne's last day special.

"Why five?" her mother asked.

"It's to take to school to share with my friends. A whole cake would be hard to carry and serve. I thought it would be fun to make five little cakes. You have those little round cake pans, I remember we used them at Christmas. Could I?"

"Do whatever you wish, just don't make a mess for the maid, she's got enough to do," was her mother's response.

Jane spent part of her afternoon making the cakes- and making icing- which she had never done independently before, but since she enjoyed cooking and baking, and was very good at it, she felt confident they would taste all right.

Billy came downstairs when he smelled the cakes baking, but Jane told him these were for her friends, and he was not her friend.

She would not even let him have the leftover icing, preferring to throw it away.


	28. The End and The Beginning

Jane had to bring an extra lunch basket to school, to hold her five little cakes. Since Prissy was home with her teacher, she was able to use Prissy's. She did not use Billy's because she knew Anne would not want her food to touch it.

* * *

At school, Ruby could not stop sniffling the whole day. Her eyes were red, and every time she made eye contact with Anne she put her handkerchief over her mouth to stifle a sob. Anne was glad Ruby cared for her, but Ruby was making everything worse. Diana looked like _she _was near tears, too, but kept them in, wanting to comfort Anne rather than make her more upset.

When it was time for lunch, Josie again went off with the older girls. Anne wondered what it would be like when she left school- would Josie come back to the group? She wasn't sure the other girls would accept Josie back, now that they had switched their loyalties to Anne.

Jane opened Prissy's lunch basket and brought out the dessert. Each tiny, round cake was covered in white icing and had hearts made out of cinnamon drops on the top. When Anne saw them, she almost cried herself.

"Here, Anne," Jane said, passing out the first one to Anne. "This is for you."

Anne took the cake, with a deep breath to steady her emotions. She started to say something flowery and appreciate to Jane, but she could not speak without crying, so she only bit her lip and took the cake with a nod.

Jane caught her eye, and then looked away, ashamed, as she passed out the rest of the cakes. They did not taste as good to her as she had expected them to.

The day ended with hugs from Diana, Ruby, Tillie, and Jane.

Before leaving, Anne had begun to write down the homework for the weekend, and then had a bizarre moment of realization:

_I don't need to write down the homework for the weekend- I won't be here to turn it in on Monday._

But then an even more surreal thought came- not _just _about the weekend and Monday, but about life:

_I wouldn't be turning it in on Monday anyway, because as of tomorrow I'm no longer a student at this school._

And then she had to take a deep breath- she felt she'd been holding back tears with deep breaths all day long- and try to keep herself together, because the thought of officially being unenrolled and not belonging in the school was too much to bear.

* * *

She was glad to see that Marilla and Matthew were waiting with the buggy as promised. They waited until all of the students left before going into the building to speak to Mr. Phillips, so they would not be overheard. Anne sat in the buggy, Gilbert and Diana waiting with her until Matthew and Marilla returned to take her home.

Diana rode with the Cuthberts in the buggy part of the way home, but they had to drop her off relatively quickly because they could not come within sight of her house, since her mother still found Anne to be an unsuitable companion for her daughter.

So it was a quiet, somber foursome that arrived at Green Gables that afternoon. Gilbert and Anne, who had sat in the back of the buggy together and huddled too close to each other for Marilla's approval, climbed out of the buggy first.

Anne got upset again when she started to ask Gilbert if he wanted to come in to work on their homework together. It was such a _habit _now, that she'd said it without even thinking- and promptly burst into tears.

Once she started, she could not stop. They had been building all day and she'd been successful in keeping them back, but now she was home with the people she cared about most in the world and she could no longer keep a stiff upper lip.

Matthew pulled her to him and held her.

"Anne," Marilla said calmly, reaching out to touch her head. "Everything will work out," she murmured, trying to comfort her. But Anne could hear the sadness in her voice.

Gilbert hung back, unsure if she should stay or go. He wanted to stay, but…

"Miss Cuthbert?" he asked quietly. "Should I leave? Do you want to just- be a family-" He did not know how else to put it.

Marilla looked back at Gilbert as if she had forgotten he was there, and Anne looked up from Matthew's arm around her. Anne held her hand out, wanting Gilbert to come closer. "You _are _family," she struggled to say.

* * *

When Jane reached home, she went quietly into the house and put her things away.

Mrs. Andrews was sitting in the parlor, still working on Prissy's new bedroom curtains. She was making ruffles today.

"Hello, mother," Jane said softly.

"Did your cakes go over well?" her mother asked without looking at her.

"Yes," Jane whispered. She came and sat down in the window seat and pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around them. She stared out the window.

"Where are Prissy and Billy?" she asked after a moment.

"They're still with Miss Winston," Mrs. Andrews said, pulling the needle through the fabric. She finally looked up at her daughter. "Why are you so down and out, Jane? Did something happen at school?"

Jane shook her head.

"Didn't your friends like getting your cakes?"

"Yes," Jane answered.

"Mother," she finally said after a pause. "Anne left school today."

Her mother tightened up the way she always did when someone mentioned who she preferred to refer to as _that girl. _"Oh," she replied. "Did she go home sick?"

"No. This was her last day. That's why I brought cake. She has to leave school now."

"I didn't know that's why you wanted to bring cake to school," Mrs. Andrews responded. She did not appear happy to find this out.

"I didn't tell you," Jane admitted. "I thought you might not let me."

Mrs. Andrews sighed and set down her sewing. She turned around to face her daughter.

"So she won't be coming back?" she asked, her tone unforgiving.

Jane shook her head. "How _could_ she come back? She's getting big around the middle."

"I'm glad," Mrs. Andrews said, more to herself than to Jane. "She shouldn't be at school around the rest of you girls while in that condition."

Jane got upset then. Anne wouldn't have been in that condition at all if it hadn't been for her brother- _How can mother act as though Anne's a bad influence for me_?

"Besides," Mrs. Andrews said briskly. "If she's going to be gone, then Billy can go back to school."

* * *

No one moved from Anne until Marilla finally said, "Come now, Anne, stop your crying and come in the house."

Anne sniffled and nodded, catching her breath. With Matthew and Gilbert on either side of her, she walked up the steps and through the door. It would be the last time she came home from school.

* * *

Mrs. Andrews told Miss Winston that while Prissy would stay with her through the day, Billy would be back in school on Monday.

Prissy thought _she _ought to be allowed to go, too- and she secretly missed the attention she got from Mr. Phillips- but her mother and father said no.

They were not against Mr. Phillips, really, but they felt he had overstepped his bounds as Prissy's teacher and they wanted Prissy to prepare for Queens without him leering at her. But, much to Mr. Phillips and Prissy's relief, they also told him that once Prissy had finished her schooling, and was old enough to wear her hair up and begin courting, they would be happy to consider him a suitable match for her at that time.

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, Anne sat curled up on the sofa with Gilbert too close for Marilla's liking, but she did not say anything about it because she feared that if she told Anne not to lean on him like that, she might start to cry all over again.

Marilla took Anne's books and lunch basket from her. She put the lunch basket away in a cupboard, and she placed Anne's school books in the very bottom of their book shelves, out of sight. She did not want them left out in case they upset her.

"Anne, look," Gilbert said, finally pulling away from her and reaching down to get something out of his school supplies. "Look what I brought you."

Anne opened her eyes and looked.

He put a small, flat box in front of her. "It's a jigsaw puzzle," he said quietly. "There are one thousand pieces. I thought maybe we could put it together in the afternoons. Do you want to?"

Anne nodded. Gilbert looked at her with concern. Whenever she could have talked but didn't, something inside him ached.

Since Mr. and Miss Cuthbert had left the room, he reached out and touched her cheek. "We'll have fun together, won't we?"

Anne just nodded again. She took a shaky breath. "Where did you get that?"

He smiled. "I ordered it from a catalog."

She was quiet a moment, then asked. "What's on it?"

"What's on it?"

"The picture. On the puzzle."

"Oh. Well, I wanted to give you the whole world, but I couldn't, so-" and he opened the puzzle. The inside of the box showed the picture on the jigsaw puzzle. It was a map of the world.


	29. Word Spreads

Jane was unhappy.

With Anne out of the way, her parents sighed with relief that things could go back to normal- Billy could return to school, and no one would be in contact with the inconvenience that was Anne Shirley.

* * *

However, Billy returning to school was unexpected, and was not met with acceptance from everyone.

Gilbert found himself hardly paying any attention to school on Monday morning, with every single word or movement from Billy angering him. He did not know how he could get through the rest of the year sitting only two rows away from the person who had caused such destruction.

Gilbert wanted to quit school- not that he actually would, of course. But the thought of a school not allowing Anne to be there and get her education, well, that made him value it less. He was angry. And he felt incredibly guilty for even _going _to school without her.

_Focus_, he told himself. _Getting angry isn't going to help Anne. What __**will **__help Anne is focusing on my grades so I'll be able to go to college. ...If I can't make a decent career for myself, I won't be able to provide for her. _

Gilbert was not the only one against Billy returning.

When Tillie went home, Tillie confessed to her mother that she was afraid to walk to and from school now, because Anne had been walking to school when she was attacked.

While Mr. and Mrs. Boulter had heard the rumors that Anne was expecting, they did not know the full story, and Tillie herself hadn't known it for _sure_ until recently. When Tillie explained that Anne was "getting big around the middle and couldn't stay at school any longer", they were horrified- and when Tillie told them that Gilbert _Blythe _had seen _proof _that Billy had actually attacked Anne in an "intimate" way, they were ready to march over to the school at that very moment.

Ruby went home and cried all night after Anne left school. Sobbing, she told her mother that it just wasn't fair Anne had to leave, and that school would be "in ruins" without her.

"Now, Ruby, she _can't _stay in school if she's marrying!" her mother said, wiping Ruby's tear streaked cheeks. "But that doesn't mean you can't be her friend, dear. You can visit her- as long as I come _with _you. I don't want her to talk about any married woman things in front of you."

Ruby cried some more. She wailed, "It isn't _just _Anne leaving school, Mother. _Billy's _come back, and Anne _hates _him, and it isn't _fair-_"

"Billy is back?" her mother asked, stopping her work. "Doesn't the teacher know of his..._involvement?"_

Ruby shook her head. Her eyes were big.

"Anne _is _marrying, isn't she?" Mrs. Gillis wanted to know. "Have the Andrews said anything about it, do you know?"

Ruby shook her head. "They won't make Billy do _anything_. Anyway, Anne's with Gilbert, and he's _very _stuck on her, Mother. He'll step in. They are over the _moon_. ...Except, Anne's miserable because Billy can go to school just like nothing ever happened, and she can't."

Mrs. Gillis was not happy. "The Andrews' have a status in this town, and I'm not a bit surprised they want to sweep this under the rug, but what's right is right and they need to make that boy marry her! ...Gilbert's doing a noble thing, but he shouldn't have felt it was necessary."

"Mother, I don't think it's right- Billy in school with us girls! He's frightening, don't you think? What if he does it _again?"_ Ruby asked.

Mrs. Gillis was already forming her letter to the school board in her mind.

She had no power to make the Andrews "do the right thing"- which in _her _eyes meant making their son step up to the marriage that she thought was the proper course of action. But she _did _have the power to tell the school board exactly why a boy like that should not be in the same room with her daughter.

* * *

When Diana came home from school on Tuesday, her mother confronted her.

"Mrs. Boulter and Mrs. Gillis were over here together and they told me that Anne has left school due to...unfortunate circumstances."

Diana was caught off guard.

"I'd heard _rumors_, of course, but I didn't know for sure- you should have told me what you knew!"

"I _tried_, Mother, but you-"

"You tried?"

"'Yes!" Diana said loudly. Seeing her mother's reaction to her tone, she swallowed and started over more calmly. "I told you that Billy _attacked _Anne, Mother, and that it wasn't her fault. But you kept telling me over and over that Mrs. _Pye _told you Gilbert and Anne had been indecent with each other and they were blaming it on Billy so they could get money from the Andrews- and- and- and Mother, I _tried _to tell you it wasn't _true! _Josie spreads _awful_ rumors, and her mother's no better!_ ..._And Mother, you don't know how awful it's been for poor Anne, everyone telling lies about her! She's _not _a...a loose girl like you _think _she is-"

Her mother interrupted: "I hope you have not been speaking to that girl behind my back."

Diana wanted to cry.

Mrs. Barry stared at her a long moment. "...Are you very sure about this? Mrs. Gillis and Mrs. Boulter both seem to think Billy is at fault."

"He _is_, Mother!" Diana pleaded. "And now all the girls are _afraid_, because he's back at school. He could do that to any of _us! _And we'll have to go to school every day in fear, because nobody _believes_ us!"

Mrs. Barry looked troubled.

"I...I'll have to think more about this," she said. "I believed Billy was innocent and that Anne had developed a _story _with Gilbert in order to get money from the Andrews…"

Diana shook her head sorrowfully. "Mother, Gilbert wouldn't do such a thing. And neither would Anne, but you _know _Gilbert wouldn't."

"He could have been led astray by that girl, if she's the sort who..."

"_Please_ believe them, Mother- Mrs. Gillis and Mrs. Boulter. If you won't believe _me_, then believe _them!"_ Diana cried.

Her mother looked startled- Diana's meaning hitting her hard. "You think I'd believe someone else over my own daughter?"

Diana started to cry. "Mother, I've tried and tried to tell you the truth but you wouldn't _believe _me!"

Mrs. Barry felt terrible. Yet…

"Diana, even if this _is _the truth of it...I cannot allow you to associate with that girl, not in her _condition-_"

Now Diana was really crying. "How would you _feel_, Mother? If it had been _me? _Pushed to the ground and hurt like that, and bound to live life as an unwed mother? How would _you_ feel? Wouldn't it hurt you to see me banished from society and cut off from having any_ friends?"_

Mrs. Barry stared at her.

Finally she said- disturbed- "All right, Diana, it's all right. We'll...we'll get it all sorted out."

* * *

Letters flew back and forth from the mothers of Avonlea to the school board.

The Sunday School teacher came in one morning to meet with Mr. Phillips. "I realize that I am charged with the religious education of the children, rather than the academic side of things, but I want you to know that the plans in _my _classroom have changed- Billy Andrews will _not _be allowed in the same class with the girls due to his violent tendencies. ...I know you don't have the option of placing him in a separate class, but I hope you will consider taking precautions in other ways. He has proven to be a threat and we, as teachers, have a responsibility to safeguard our students. I have already written to the school board as well as the diaconate board, but I felt I must warn you personally."

In two weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews received a visit from the school board.

They were "asked" to withdraw Billy from Avonlea School.


	30. No Return

"Miss Winston left us," Jane said to Gilbert after school a few days later.

"Who?" Gilbert asked.

"Oh, I don't think I told you her name. The tutor my parents hired," Jane explained.

"I'm surprised they hired a lady," Gilbert commented.

"...My mother is very progressive when it comes to women being educated. Miss Winston has two degrees."

"No, that's not what I meant," Gilbert clarified. "I meant because of Billy."

"Yes, I know, but they wanted to keep Prissy home, too. They're not _against _Mr. Phillips, not _really_, but they think he should have waited to pursue her until after she finished school here, and done things the right way, not in secret."

"Yeah," Gilbert agreed.

"Anyway, Prissy has to stay home and do school without Mr. Phillips leering at her."

"I'm glad."

"But they didn't want Prissy sitting with a man all day, so they hired a lady tutor- Miss Winston. ...Only now she's left us."

"Oh?" Gilbert was interested in this. "How did that come about?"

"She heard about...all of this. She was _there_ when the school board came to my parents. When they left, she went to our mother and resigned. She said mother should have told her up front what his situation was."

"She didn't?"

"No, she told all the prospective tutors that she felt that the school in Avonlea wasn't preparing her children well enough for college, and she wanted to pull them out and have them taught at home so they'd be better off."

"Didn't Miss Winston ever wonder why they were still sending _you_ to school?"

"Mother told her that I was still young enough that it didn't matter about me; that it was only the older grades who were taught in an inferior way."

"...She had to have an answer for everything, I suppose."

"That's how it is when you're lying," Jane agreed matter-of-factly. "You have to come up with all kinds of made up things, or the whole thing falls apart."

Jane and Gilbert both looked somber at that.

"Anyway, mother was _begging _Miss Winston to stay. Absolutely _begging _her, I've never seen _Mother_ like that! But Miss Winston wouldn't hear it. She said she was leaving that very night. She doesn't want to sit with Billy all day knowing he's capable of doing something like that."

"I don't blame her," Gilbert said reluctantly.

"My mother asked her if she could please stay for Prissy, and they'd get someone _else_ to teach Billy. Because Prissy likes her so much. But Miss Winston refused…she said she couldn't possibly feel safe in our house anymore."

Gilbert couldn't put into words what he was thinking. He felt sorry for Jane that people did not feel safe in her home.

"And she was angry at Mother and Father for not telling her the truth about him in the first place. And then she said that she should have been _suspicious_ because of how much they were paying her. Apparently when she was interviewing for jobs, she had offers from wealthy private schools all along the coast, but she turned them all down because she has this friend who travels between New York and New Brunswick for his job, and he showed her the ad that my parents put in the paper. When she saw that my parents were offering a higher salary than what a lot of schools pay, she figured why not try for it?"

Gilbert's eyes could have fallen out of his head. "They were paying her more than what _schools_ pay?"

"They were, and they were paying her more than what a lot of fancy, _expensive_ schools pay. …I wondered why my parents attracted someone from far away- she's from Massachusetts- but offering _that_ much money, who _wouldn't_ apply?"

Gilbert shook his head, still surprised over the pay.

"And she said she should have taken that as a _sign_ that something was _amiss_, but she came anyway. Now she's leaving. She said she's going back to Concord. …Mother tried to get her to stay at _least _until they found a _new _tutor, but she said she couldn't teach Billy now, knowing what she knows."

"Is _he_ upset about losing her? As I recall, he said '_you can't learn anything from a woman_'. I wonder what he's thinking now," Gilbert remarked.

"I don't know...he was never nice to her. I mean, he did everything she told him to do, and he actually paid attention and _tried_\- I've never seen him actually _work _before- so that was good. And he wasn't outright rude to her…but he wasn't _nice_ to her."

Then she sighed.

"Prissy's devastated. It was already a lot for her to be found out with Mr. Phillips and it was even more for her to be made to leave school, but now to have gotten all attached to Miss Winston only to have her _leave_\- Prissy's been crying a lot."

* * *

Jane had an update for Gilbert the following day.

"Miss Winston not only left, she told my mother- and my, was she angry!- that she's going to warn other teachers she knows that they ought to stay away from employment with our family."

Gilbert was surprised. "Do you think they'll have trouble finding another tutor?" he asked.

Jane thought about this, then shook her head. "I doubt it- even if Miss Winston knows _lots_ of other teachers, it isn't as if she knows _every_ teacher there _is_\- someone else will come along."

* * *

But no one _did_ come along, because once Billy was withdrawn from school, word began to spread about _why_. And before another week went by, his parents made a decision.

Mr. Andrews worried that Billy could not find employment in Avonlea- or even people who would provide positive references for him.

Mrs. Andrews worried about his courtship prospects- she doubted any of the families of young girls in this town would forget about all of this before their daughters reached courting age. She could not think of even one family who would give their blessing for Billy to court their daughter.

Billy needed a fresh start.

There was an aunt and uncle on his mother's side with a farm in Nova Scotia. Perhaps that would do. He could begin again, in a place where no one knew him. ...Mr. and Mrs. Andrews decided to travel there with him, and be sure he understood that in this new place he must make better decisions.

It was their only salvation.


	31. The Start of Life at Home, and Friends

Gilbert took to doing his homework in the evenings, now, because of Anne.

In the beginning he thought he'd walk right over to her after school, come in and sit down with her, and they'd work- he felt even more of a duty to do school work together now that Anne could not continue with her education. If he wasn't there, she wouldn't get any schooling at all.

But on Monday- Anne's first day without going to school- he could not bring himself to tell her anything about school. She seemed to need distraction, not reminders. So he pushed his books off to the side and decided that coming over to see her should only be about fun and amusement, nothing to do with school. He thought that at some point, she'd _want _to get back to the books, and he'd be happy to get her all caught up then, but he'd wait for _her _leading on that.

* * *

"This is hard, because the pieces are so small and they're all either blue or green," Anne commented.

"Let's get the corners and the outline first," Gilbert said. "That's a good place to start."

He wondered if she had ever put together a puzzle before, and guessed not. "Not all the pieces are green and blue."

"No, just the land and water," Anne said, sounding almost sarcastic.

Gilbert stared at her a moment, not knowing what to do. She was so unhappy. "We can do something else," he said.

Anne sighed. "No," she said. "I want to."

But she hardly said a word all afternoon. She just bent over the pieces, finding all the edges.

* * *

Gilbert had not told Anne that Billy had come back to school.

He wondered if he would have to, but when Billy was gone after only two weeks of being back in school, Gilbert was relieved. The day after Billy left, Jane explained that her parents had decided to send Billy to live with an aunt and uncle.

Gilbert was able to give Anne the news- "Anne, guess what Jane told me?" he asked as he came in that day.

"What?" Anne asked.

"Billy's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

"He _left_. He's going to live in Nova Scotia. So you won't have to worry about him being around town or at church anymore."

It was the first time in two weeks Anne looked like there was anything good left in the world.

But then she said- "Has Diana said anything about me?"

Gilbert paused.

"Diana will be allowed to come over soon," he promised.

* * *

Mrs. Barry had decided Anne should no longer be blamed for what had happened.

But she still did not want Diana around a young girl expecting a baby.

She told Diana, "I won't allow you to witness her getting bigger and bigger with that baby. It's completely inappropriate. ...Once the baby has come and gone, then you may visit her."

"Once the baby has come and gone?" Diana repeated, confused.

"Surely she'll find a home for it," Mrs. Barry explained. "She cannot be an unwed mother. ...Yes, dear, once the baby has found it's new home, _then _you may go visit Anne again."

_And_, Mrs. Barry thought to herself,_ I'm coming with you. Formal visits with mothers there. I don't blame the poor girl, but I must make sure Diana doesn't hear anything about that...experience._

* * *

So Mrs. Barry expected Anne to give the baby up, while Mrs. Gillis still expected Anne to tie the knot with someone- anyone- rather than become an unwed mother.

The afternoon after Billy left, Mrs. Gillis told Ruby, "With Billy off to Nova Scotia, I suppose the Andrews aren't going to make him step up and do the proper thing!"

"No, Mother," Ruby responded. "They don't make him do anything."

"She can thank her lucky stars that there are still good men in the world- you did say Gilbert Blythe had offered to save her from the desperate fate. He's a good boy, that Gilbert. Shame he had to do it, though."

* * *

Anne got upset when she heard Mrs. Gillis and Marilla arguing one afternoon.

When Mrs. Gillis left, Anne came down the stairs. "She won't let Ruby be my friend anymore, will she?"

Marilla turned to her. She was still flustered from Mrs. Gillis' visit. "She's being flat out ridiculous, Anne! You are fourteen years old. You are not marrying anyone!"

"Gilbert and I want to get married," Anne said boldly.

Marilla raised her eyebrows in a way that made Anne feel a bit scared.

Then Marilla sighed. "Well, you aren't getting married for a great many years, and Mrs. Gillis is ridiculous for thinking you must."

She sat down. Anne came over to her.

"I told her our little lie, remember?" Marilla said, pulling her close. "I told her that you wanted to do 'the right thing' as she calls it. You were all set to go through with a marriage, and I told you I absolutely forbid it."

Anne hugged her. "But now she's upset with _you_, isn't she? I knew she would be."

Marilla squeezed her. "You leave Mrs. Gillis to me. She'll bring Ruby around soon enough. You'll have your friend back."

* * *

Meanwhile, Anne was making a new friend- Jerry.

Jerry, she thought, was a safe friend. He didn't go to her school, so he couldn't tell embarrassing news of her to the other children.

Best of all, he seemed to just _accept _her.

"You aren't going to school anymore?" was all he asked.

"No," she said.

And he did not ask why.

She began walking around after him as he worked.

"I'd help you with your work," she said. "But…"

"Miss Cuthbert told me not to let you," he said as he raked.

She nodded.

The truth was, Jerry could tell she was expecting. He'd seen enough _expecting _to know what it looked like, despite Anne trying to hide it.

But he knew it without wondering why or asking Anne questions that would make her feel bad.


	32. Shifting Gears, and The First Kick

"You've been out of school for two weeks now, Anne," Marilla said. "And I think I've let you mope long enough."

Anne was laying on the sofa.

Marilla sat down. "I know you're still disappointed about school. But we must face reality: the school phase of life is over, and it's time for us to move into the next phase of life."

Anne rolled over and looked at her. "What's the next phase of life?"

"The getting-ready phase," Marilla said. "It's time for us to begin preparations for the baby."

"Do we _have _to?" Anne asked, already knowing how ridiculous she sounded.

Marilla gave her a Look.

Anne sighed.

"Now, we'll have to go into town for fabric and yarn," Marilla told her.

"But I don't want to go into town!" Anne cried.

"You know Billy won't be there," Marilla said briskly. "He's gone now. There's nothing keeping you from town."

"Yes, there is!" Anne said. "Marilla, I am _flabbergasted _that you'd force me into such humiliation. Everyone would see me-" she looked down- "With _this!"_

"Anne, for heaven's sake, you are not even that big. Yes, a few people would be able to tell, but you are not yet that _obvious_, and-"

"What if the Andrews see me?" Anne protested. "Billy may be gone but Mr. and Mrs. Andrews _aren't!"_

Marilla said calmly, "I can choose fabric myself. I only thought _you'd_ like to decide on colors and prints. ...I thought you might think it was fun to choose."

"I don't care what..._it_...has on. I just don't want to go into town! Please don't make me go!" Anne insisted.

Marilla went into town by herself.

* * *

Gilbert's father, hearing about Gilbert's many worries over Anne each day, had suggested that Gilbert order a book to help him.

"You're planning to become a doctor, so you'll have to know all about it, anyway, son- you may as well read now and try to quell your fears."

And so Gilbert had ordered _Maidenhood and Motherhood_, by a Dr. John D. West.

He began it one morning when he woke up too early, and thinking about Anne, could not go back to sleep.

The more Gilbert read, the more he felt sorry for Anne. Pregnancy sounded awful. He had always thought it was a beautiful thing- that it must be amazing to be a woman because you were doing the miraculous thing of growing new life, a whole new human being, and men certainly didn't have that kind of power. It was _incredible_.

But he hadn't known very much _about_ it before, and the more he read, the more he felt it wasn't so great to be a woman after all. They had to deal with a _lot_, he realized. He'd never known about monthly bleeding, but found out about it through reading the book, and he thought _that_ in itself was awful, but from there it only got worse.

The book talked about the various things that could go wrong during a pregnancy- and that was before the baby was even attempting to come out. Once it tried to come out, it brought with it a whole host of new problems- hemorrhaging, perineal tears, infection…the only thing that seemed good about pregnancy was that at least the monthly bleeding didn't happen during it.

The more Gilbert read, the more he worried.

There were so many things that could go wrong.

And while he thought Anne was strong, he also thought she was tiny. How could she cope? He stopped reading and rubbed his eyes, fighting the exhaustion that overcame him. He sighed and stared at the book.

He forced himself to keep reading, thinking at _some_ point the book would offer _something_ helpful, something that would ease his fears, but the more he read, the more disturbing it became.

And he worried about Anne's desire to keep herself hidden away for months at a time. "_Some women never allow themselves to be seen or to appear outside their homes during the later months of gestation._" He kept reading. "_This is dangerous to both mother and child. Such confinement has the tendency to increase the natural disposition to irritation and nervousness, even to engender a spirit of unrest and melancholy…_"

Gilbert felt stuck. Staying hidden was bad for her…but she couldn't really go _out_, either- she didn't want to. He hoped the book would address what to do if the woman _couldn't_ go out…but this book was for women, not young girls who wanted to hide away.

When he reached the end of the section on childbirth, he was left with one final note from the author, stating that despite the pain, all would be forgotten upon receiving the joy of her new baby in her arms. Gilbert turned the page, but the next section was called Widowhood. He closed the book and stared out the window at the breaking dawn.

_I hope she'll be __**happy**_, he thought desperately. _This book is meant for __**wives**__\- happy, baby-wishing wives. But Anne's not looking forward to __**her**__ baby. She doesn't want it inside her, either, but at least when it's inside she doesn't have to look at it and she doesn't have to take care of it. Once it's born, she'll be looking right into the baby's eyes and she'll be obligated to attend to all it's needs. How will she have the strength and endurance to get through delivering it when she doesn't even want what's on the other side?_

* * *

When Marilla told Anne that the time had come for them to focus on getting ready for the baby, Anne suddenly developed a new interest in school work.

So when Gilbert came over, now, she told him she wanted to do school work with him again, instead of just talking and working on the map of the world puzzle.

But their first afternoon of working on geometry- with a plate of cookies before them- Anne suddenly hunched forward and brought her hands to her stomach.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked with alarm.

"I…" Anne trailed off. Then she stopped again.

Gilbert asked quickly, "Is something wrong?"

"No...I'm all right. ...I think." Anne wasn't looking at him. Finally she sat back in her chair and bit her lip.

"What happened?" Gilbert asked, staring at her.

She nodded slowly, still not looking at him. "I just felt…"

Gilbert waited, worried.

Then Anne felt it again. She hesitantly touched the place she'd felt it.

"Should I get Miss Cuthbert?"

"No. It's normal. ...I think."

He stared at her, waiting, worrying.

"_The Thing_. It moved."

"It moved? Like, it kicked?"

She finally looked at him. "It's never done that before. Or at least, I don't think it has. I've never felt it before."

Gilbert did not know how to respond, because he could not figure out from Anne's face whether she thought this was a good thing or a bad thing. Finally he asked, "Was it strange?"

She nodded. She moved her hand to the place she'd felt it. "I hope it won't do that again. It shouldn't. I don't want it to."

Gilbert didn't say anything, because he was pretty sure that as time went on, she would feel it more and more.

And she did- she felt it again right away, and did not like it at all. She assumed other mothers were delighted to feel their babies for the first time, but Anne felt sick at it.

She poked her stomach where she'd felt it, thinking maybe it would get the idea that it should leave her alone.

Gilbert was sad to see Anne's drooping expression. "It isn't kicking to be unkind to you, Anne. It's just trying to say hello, is all. ...It likes you."

Anne sighed. _Don't do that,_ she silently begged. _Just be still. I want to be able to pretend you're not here._

She bit into a cookie. "I'm going to eat more," she announced. "So that my stomach will get full and there won't be enough room in there for it to move around."

Gilbert almost laughed, thinking she was joking, but found that she meant it. Then he realized that Miss Cuthbert had been reading, and _he _had been reading, and they were the _only _ones- Anne had no desire to read about what was happening inside her, and clearly, she didn't know much about it, because where her food was going and where the baby was growing were not the same place.

He did not say anything to correct her, because he knew she did not want to hear anything else about it.

And he was right, Anne was content to stay misinformed, and when the baby stopped moving, Anne was happy to forget about it.


	33. Getting Accustomed to Not Being Alone

"The Thing moved," Anne told Marilla and Matthew as they were just sitting down to dinner. They both looked up at her in surprise.

"Moved?" Marilla asked. "You felt it kick?"

This information was such news that she did not think to scold Anne for referring to it as _The Thing._

Anne nodded miserably. "I was just sitting there with Gilbert and suddenly there It was. Kicking away like it was playing ball. I poked at it and it stopped. Maybe I just have to keep poking at it to make it be still."

"Anne," Marilla scolded. "Don't do that. What if you hurt it?"

"Is poking at it going to hurt it?" Anne asked.

Marilla hesitated. "Well, I don't know. But don't poke at it anyway! Why would you do such a thing? Kicking is perfectly normal, all babies do that."

"I _know_," Anne said miserably. "But I don't like it."

Matthew said gently, "It won't be forever."

Anne smiled kindly at him. She knew he just wanted her to feel better. She reached for the peas and dumped an enormous scoop onto her plate. "I've decided to eat more. To make less room in there for moving."

Matthew laughed at this.

"Well, I'm glad if you'll eat more, anyway," Marilla commented, handing Anne the butter. You were eating a lot and then the past week you've stopped eating so much...Rachel Lynde told me when you're expecting you're supposed to eat twice as much, because you're eating for two."

"Then I want two pieces of cake, instead of one," Anne announced.

* * *

Rachel Lynde told Anne that it was good the baby was kicking. "It's _supposed_ to, and I'd be worried if it didn't! You're really feeling it quite a bit late, you know. Of course, that's sometimes how it is with a _first _pregnancy," she said with an air of wisdom. "Subsequent pregnancies you feel it sooner- likely just because you know what you're looking for, by then. It comes much sooner than a big kick- it starts out as tiny little flutters-"

"Flutters?" Anne repeated, horrified. "I felt little flutters _ages _ago! I thought it was indigestion! I didn't know _that_ was the baby. ...I didn't know until it _kicked _me!"

"There, you see, everything is as it should be. The little mite is perfectly fine."

"Isn't there a way to make it_ stop?" _Anne begged. "I tried poking at it, but it just kept on!"

"Poking it will make it move more, not less," Rachel said with a shake of her head.

"Then what can I _do?" _Anne wanted to know.

"You can be glad it's healthy," she said firmly.

* * *

While Anne lay in bed, trying to go to sleep, the baby moved.

_Stop_, she silently told it.

Then, thinking that maybe it could not hear her inside her head, she whispered aloud into the dark, "_Stop_."

But it did not stop.

She poked at it, but that didn't stop it.

She pushed her pillow over it, but it kept kicking her.

"You're being mean to me. Go to sleep and stop bothering me."

She just wanted to be alone in her own bed in her room, but now, with the baby making itself known, she could not be alone _anywhere_.

"I don't want you here," she said out loud to it. "Go away!"

Then suddenly it seemed to drop. Her belly was still.

Even though she'd just told it to stop, she now felt alarmed by the way it had stopped so _suddenly_. She began to feel afraid.

_I told it I didn't want it and it just seemed to go limp. Now what?_

She sat up in bed, not knowing what to do. Should she get Marilla? But if she did, what could Marilla _do?_

There was nothing to do, it seemed, but wait.

_Please, please, please, _she chanted silently. _Please be all right, because I don't know what to do if you're not. _

She sat in the dark, her arms wrapped around herself, worrying. What would happen to her if it _wasn't _all right? Should she go to the doctor? What would _he_ do? What would he have to do _to _her? She wondered if the baby died, if it meant _she _would die too?

After a few long, agonizing minutes, Anne felt a slight push in her lower half and nearly cried with relief.

She lay back down. _You're all right, then._ _Stop kicking me, and when you come out I'll give you a ball to play with. You can kick that. Go to sleep now. _

But the baby was not interested in sleep.

Gilbert's words came back to her. She thought to herself, _If Gilbert was right- that it's just trying to say hello- then it just wants my attention. So maybe if I pay attention to it, it'll quit trying to be noticed so much. _

She put her hand on the slight bulge and rubbed it softly. _There, feel that? I'm not poking at you, am I? I'm saying hello to you. Is that want you want? Now that I've been nice to you, calm down and go to sleep._

It seemed to work. The baby stopped.

* * *

Anne spent the next morning sitting in the barn with Jerry. She kept him talking on and on, peppering him with questions about his family. As she talked to Jerry, the baby kept right on moving inside her. Anne tried to ignore it. But after finally being still for about half an hour, it gave her a firm kick again, as if it wanted to make sure she hadn't forgotten it was there, and she began to feel frustrated.

"What's the matter?" Jerry asked, cutting himself off mid-sentence when he saw Anne's annoyed expression.

She shook her head, near tears. "What is it?" he asked again.

Anne was holding her stomach.

"Should I get Mr. Cuthbert? He's out in the field, I can-"

"No!" Anne yelled at him.

Jerry came over to her. He dropped his rake. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm _not_," Anne insisted as she wiped her eyes on her pinafore.

"This barn's a dirty place for that frilly thing," he said with a smile.

"I _have _to wear it," Anne told him. "My plain one doesn't _hide-_" she broke off, shaking her head.

Jerry sat down next to her. "You will not tell Mr. Cuthbert I stopped working?"

Anne shook her head, rubbing her eyes.

Jerry dropped down beside her in the hay. He said something in French- almost without realizing it- and Anne said,_ "What?"_

Jerry shook his head. "Sorry. ...I said when my aunt had a baby, she cried for months."

"Why?" Anne asked, her face turning red because he _clearly _knew of her condition.

"She did not want one. She had five already and did not want a sixth." He laughed.

"It isn't _funny_," Anne said. "When somebody doesn't want one and one's coming anyway, there's nothing _less _funny than that, Jerry!"

She took a shaky breath. "I hate this. That's why I stopped going to school, if you were wondering."

Jerry gave sort of a shrug. "I knew," he said, "But, it is not obvious."

He still did not ask her any questions, and Anne loved him for that.

"Jerry," Anne asked suddenly. "Did you know that my bosom friend Diana can speak French like you?"

"Your...what friend?"

"Never mind. I think you should meet Diana. I bet you'd like her a lot. You two could speak French together, and maybe you could teach me to speak it, too."

* * *

In the afternoon, Gilbert came. But after they ate a snack, the baby became active again. It would not be calmed by her rubbing her belly gently as she had the day before, but she had a new idea. She got up and went over to the sofa.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked, concerned. "Do you feel sick?"

"No," she said, whispering as she lay down on her side. "I'm pretending I'm in bed. So it'll think it's time to go to sleep."

Anne shut her eyes and started breathing slow and deep, the way she would if she were sleeping.

After a few minutes of watching her "sleep", he came over to her.

"Anne, do you want me to lea-"

"Shhh," she whispered. "If we talk, it'll know I'm not asleep."

Gilbert smiled.

She reached out for his hand.

He took it, sitting down beside her, and didn't say anything.

Finally Anne opened her eyes. "I think it worked," she mouthed. She sat up very, very slowly, and slid off the couch. "Don't talk. Whisper."

Gilbert had a _lot_ of doubt that what Anne was doing was having _any_ impact on the baby, but he was willing to play along with her.

"I'll get our books and bring them in here," he said softly, backing away.

When he came back, Anne was in tears.

"Anne- what is it?"

She said, her hands over her belly, "It didn't work."

He sat down by her side on the sofa, again holding her hand. "Anne, darling, don't cry…"

She wiped her eyes. "I want it to be still! And it _won't_."

He put his arm around her. "I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better."

She learned in to him, and after a moment she rested against his chest.

While Gilbert liked this, he couldn't help worrying that the Cuthberts would walk in. But his first concern was Anne, so he brought his arms around her and held her close to him.

After a couple minutes, _Gilbert _felt the baby kick. It was slight, but he felt the movement against him. In surprise, he pulled back.

"What?" Anne asked miserably.

"I felt it- I think," Gilbert said, reacting to it, his eyes wide.

"Oh no," Anne moaned, terribly embarrassed.

"No, it was…"

"What? Nightmarish? Disgusting? Horrifying?"

"No!" Gilbert knew Anne wasn't happy, but he couldn't hide his astonishment. "It was kind of amazing. It just..._moved_. And I _felt _it. It's…" He shook his head, words failing him. "Can I...can I feel it again?"

Anne hesitated before she nodded, accepting it.

Gilbert felt uncomfortable to just reach out and handle her stomach, and realizing this, Anne took his hand and placed it there herself. Nothing was happening, so she moved it around, waiting to see if the baby reacted to Gilbert at all.

They sat for a few minutes, their hands on her belly, until finally it gave another kick. Gilbert's eyes widened. Anne felt she could sink into the floor, but Gilbert was elated.

"Well, you don't have to be so happy about it," Anne told him.

Gilbert bit his lip. "I'm sorry. It's just…" He shook his head, at a loss for words.

"If you like it so much, then you should be the one to carry it and feel it bothering you all day!"

Gilbert wasn't really listening. He moved his hand around, wondering where it might kick next.

He didn't feel it again, and finally- reluctantly- let go.

Anne was unhappy, but Gilbert was still smiling. Seeing Anne's face, he _tried_ to stop smiling, but even when he forced himself not to smile, Anne could see the smile struggling to come out. "...All right, go ahead and be happy if you want to!" she relented, with a sigh. "I suppose _someone_ ought to. You can be happy for the both of us."

Gilbert held her again. "I wish you felt better. I'm sorry. I'll try not to be too…"

"Try not to be too what? Happy?" Anne said, almost laughing.

Gilbert smiled, sheepish. "It's just...to think that there's this person, alive and kicking, and you're...Anne, _you _are creating..._life_. It's...it's kind of a miracle."

"I wish it felt like a miracle to me," Anne said, sounding deflated. "I told it I'd get it a ball to kick when it comes out, if it'll try not to kick me so much now."

"Did you hear that?" Gilbert asked, looking down. "She'll get you a ball. So hold off till you come out, all right?"

Anne smiled, but was unhappy when she felt the baby move in response to Gilbert's voice. It seemed that every time it heard Gilbert's voice, it perked up.

Gilbert leaned in closer to her belly. "What's that?"

Anne laughed at him.

"Speak up a little," he got closer. "Oh, I see. Did you tell her that? No, don't worry, I will. All right."

He said to Anne, "The baby wants you to know that it's kicking because it just can't wait to come out and play. It wants to know if I can play with it, with that ball you promised."

Anne rolled her eyes at him. "You're both ganging up against me. No, you can't play with it, because it will be far, far away from me when it's old enough to play."

"Oh," Gilbert said sadly. "Are you back to it _leaving?_"

"...I don't know. I can't decide."

"Well, could I give it a ball to take away with it when it goes?"

"Yes," Anne said. "If I send it away, I'll send it away with a little trunk. It'll have clothes, and I'm sure Marilla will insist I send it off with a Bible. And a ball from you. It'll be quite a lucky orphan, really, to start out with so many belongings."

"Yes, that's true," Gilbert said quietly.

"Gilbert," Anne said, looking at him. "You don't think I ought to send it away, do you?"

Gilbert hesitated. "I want you to have what you need. And I understand if you need it to go away."

"But?"

"But nothing."

"No, there's a but," Anne insisted.

Gilbert sighed. "I don't feel like I should have an opinion here, really."

"You _do_ have an opinion, though. So tell me."

Finally he said- in a quiet voice- "I _like _the baby."

"How can you _like _it? What about where it _came _from-"

"Because it came from _you_. And that's all I need to know to like it."

Anne did not know how to respond to that.

"Sometimes I worry that you're going to regret it."

"Why on earth would I regret sending it away?"

"Well...what if, when you see it, you _feel _something for it? When you first get to look at it, I mean."

"Maybe I won't look at it, then," Anne said, feeling grumpy at Gilbert. "When the doctor gets it out, he can take it away into another room and I won't see it at all."

He didn't say anything.

"Gilbert," she explained. "It doesn't _fit_."

"What doesn't?"

"_It_. The baby. It doesn't fit into the picture. I'm going to school, and then I'm going to go to Queens, and I'll be a teacher, and maybe I'll go even further- to a university- and….oh, Gilbert, I probably can't do _anything _I wanted to do, because I've had to be pregnant! But not everything has to change- you and I can still have a family someday- eventually we'll get married and have _our _children and the life we're supposed to have. ...This other baby wasn't supposed to happen. It was all wrong. It doesn't _belong_."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just nodded. It took great effort to nod to that.

"We'd be happier that way," Anne insisted.

"That's all I want, for you to be happy," he said softly.

"We'd _both _be happier that way," she said, pleading.

"All right," he said.

"You don't believe me," she said, "But we _will_. You wouldn't be happy, either, Gilbert, if I kept that wretched baby. Everything would be _ruined_. We wouldn't have the same life we'll have without it."

He was quiet.

"Say something," she demanded.

"...My happiness isn't dependent on the baby going away. But yours is, and that's all that matters. I want you to be happy, Anne."

This answer was not satisfactory to her.

Then he put his arms around her and held her close again, because he didn't know what to say, and he loved her.

_Years later, Anne would remember the baby's kicking as simply being something to get used to, rather than being something distressing. _

_...And had Gilbert been unwise enough to remind her of her words, Anne would have been quite offended, insisting she never would have said such a thing._


	34. Twenty-Six Weeks Old

I know I keep having Anne be upset by the baby kicking, but, this is the last chapter where she hates the feeling of it kicking. …There is a chapter coming up soon where she will get annoyed by it kicking but then in that same chapter she will decide it's sort of nice to feel it in there…and I think you guys will really like that chapter, I tried to make it a really sweet little time of just her and her baby getting to know each other : ) (That chapter is coming up pretty soon, you won't have long to wait for it.)

She is still going to waffle a bit about whether or not to actually keep the baby- but at least the baby kicking will no longer be unpleasant to her.

* * *

Anne glanced at the clock. "Oh, Gilbert, I _forgot_. I can't do geometry...I forgot our Sunday School teacher is coming at four. And I haven't done _anything _since the last time she came."

"Oh. Can I help with that, then?" he asked.

Anne put her math book down and got Marilla's Bible and her Sunday School booklet.

"I don't see how you could," she said. "I'm sorry. If you want to go home, I understand. I don't expect you to sit here watching me read."

If the choice was to sit and watch Anne read, or do anything else in the world that didn't involve Anne, he'd sit and watch her read.

But once Anne was sitting with Marilla's Bible, she sighed. "I'm hungry. _Again_."

_It never ends,_ she thought.

"I can go get you something," Gilbert offered.

"No, I have to think of what sounds good," she explained. She got up. "Would you like something?" she asked.

"No," Gilbert said, shaking his head with a hint of a smile. "Thank you." They'd had pie only a half hour ago, and Anne had eaten two pieces, and seemed to be holding herself back from having a third.

Now she went into the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the pie.

Gilbert picked up Marilla's Bible. "Where are you?" he called out to Anne.

"In the kitchen," Anne called back.

He laughed. "No, I meant in your book."

"Oh," Anne called out. "The Babylonian king's siege of Jerusalem. ...Don't you think King Nebuchadnezzar is a positively _delightful _name to say? _Nebuchadnezzar_\- it makes me laugh every time I say it!"

Gilbert smiled. "Don't let Miss Cuthbert hear you say _that_. I don't think she'd take kindly to you saying anything in the Bible makes you _laugh_."

Anne came back in with her piece of pie.

She sat down on the sofa, moving so she was sitting with one leg tucked under her. She ate a bite, then said, "I wish I had cheese to eat with this pie."

Anne turned her attention to the page. Gilbert sat with her, pretending to read alongside her, but really just watching the way her lips moved as she read to herself.

After Anne drained her second glass of water, the baby began moving around again. This was met with immediate and dramatic disapproval from Anne.

She set her empty glass down and dropped her head into her hands. "No!" she moaned.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked quickly.

"I want to _die!"_ Anne wailed.

"Anne!" Gilbert cried, alarmed.

"Well, I _do!_" she exclaimed. "It's moving _again! _It always moves around after I drink glasses of water! I hate feeling it move, Gilbert! And it doesn't stop! This is _horrible_. It's _horrendous_. It's…I can't even think of a worse word!"

Gilbert pulled her hands to his and squeezed them. "I'm sure you're right, it's horrible. But dying isn't going to improve the situation."

Anne crossed her arms. "You can't be pregnant if you're _dead."_

Gilbert had no idea _what _to say to a statement like _that_.

"_Anne…_"

He put his arm around her. "Being pregnant is temporary. Being dead is forever."

Anne felt better with his arm around her.

"...I wish this hadn't happened." Gilbert said quietly, squeezing her to him.

"You and me both," Anne grumbled.

"Well, look…the baby is…what? How old is it now?"

Anne thought a moment, but then Gilbert wished he hadn't asked, because her face clouded over as she-

"I just realized that if I need to know how old it is, I have to start with the day Billy did...that...and then count until now."

Gilbert felt awful. "Oh, Anne...I'm so sorry. I wish I hadn't asked. I just wanted to know because I wanted to know how long you had until this would all be _over _with."

Anne took a shaky breath. "It's _going _to be twenty-six weeks old." She shut her eyes as she finished: "...On _Tuesday_."

Anne said, "I don't know how old it has to be to come out? I forget."

"It's supposed to get to be forty weeks old," Gilbert told her. "So it isn't that much longer, really, is it?" He tried to sound encouraging. "It just has to get fourteen weeks older- and then you can go back to normal. No more hunger, no more achy back, no more kicking. No more sharing your space. Just fourteen more weeks, Anne. That's all. And maybe it won't even be that long- sometimes they don't wait to get to forty weeks."

"That'll be the day," Anne said glumly. "I don't know what it's doing in there, but it needs to get itself together quicker than that, so it can be ready to get out sooner. Do you hear me?" she asked loudly, looking down at her belly. "Grow faster! I want you ready to get out."

She sighed. "It's not _just _the baby moving. It's everything else! My legs ache. My feet swell up. I'm uncomfortable. My back hurts. And I'm not even that big yet, but it hurts_ all the time."_

"I wish I could help you, Anne," Gilbert said, feeling bad for her.

"You _can_ help me," Anne told him. "Could you push on it?"

"Push on what? Your back?"

"Yes. It hurts right here," she told him, twisting her arm to point to a place in the center of her lower back, where she felt pressure.

Gilbert wasn't sure he should touch her- especially since it was below the waistband of her dress, but he told himself it was all right, because it was only to help her pain.

He pressed on her back. "Is that it?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, letting a breath out. "Ugh, it hurts so much."

Gilbert kept pressing on the place her back hurt, until Anne asked, "Can you rub a little bit lower, and over to the left?"

Gilbert bit his lip and hoped no one would walk in. He was sure that if anyone did, Anne would explain that he was only trying to help her pain. ...He hoped they'd believe that.

"I'm not sure how much I can do, Anne," he finally said, hesitantly rubbing her back in circles. "I don't want Mr. or Miss Cuthbert to come in and think I'm taking advantage...:"

"But you have to. It's tradition," Anne announced.

"It is?"

"Yes," Anne told him. "It's a tradition I started today."

Gilbert laughed. "All right, then," he said, running his hand along her spine, hoping the pressure would lift.

Gilbert left when the Sunday School teacher came, and said hello to Miss Cuthbert as she passed him coming home from Rachel's.

Marilla began dinner while Anne sat with the Sunday School teacher. When Marilla heard the name _Nebuchadnezzar_, she smiled, remembering the way that name made her giggle when she was a young girl.

* * *

When Anne was alone, she lay on her bed, feeling scared. Talking to Gilbert about how old the baby was now and how much older it had to get in order to be ready to come out...it was frightening.

...Gilbert had made her feel less scared of the baby by playing with an onion. _You can't be scared of something this little, can you? _he'd asked. And then he'd made the onion into a silly little baby with toothpick arms and legs and made it talk in a squeaky voice. Anne had laughed at him, and suddenly the baby felt a little bit less frightening.

Gilbert wasn't here now, but maybe if Anne did the same thing Gilbert had done, then she'd _feel_ the same way _he'd_ made her feel.

But now...well, it must be bigger than an onion. But how _much _bigger? She didn't know.

She went down to the cellar and got a potato. She went back up to her room. She held the potato up to her stomach and tried to picture what the baby looked like in the same place. But despite her vivid imagination, she could not see a baby inside and all she saw was a potato.

She sat down at her desk and used her school ink to draw a face on the potato, just like Gilbert had done. Once she'd carefully drawn two big eyes and a small nose and a wide mouth, she held the potato up to her stomach again. The potato smiled at her, but it was still a potato.

She had an idea and went down to the kitchen. She used the end of a pewter snuffer to poke two holes in the potato. She began picking through Marilla's button jar, looking for buttons she could use as eyes. What color should they be? She found two little blue bead-like buttons and pushed them into the holes she'd made. That done, she went back up to look in the mirror. It was a better baby than it had been before, but she still couldn't picture it as anything more than a potato.

She looked at it, biting her lip. She rolled it in her handkerchief to see if it could look like a baby in a blanket. Gilbert had dressed the onion in a tea towel, and Anne had laughed at it. But when she held the potato up to her stomach again, she remembered that inside her it wasn't wearing any clothes.

Unable to replicate the lightened mood Gilbert had blessed her with when he played with the onion, she dropped the potato on the bed and left it.

Later that evening, before bed, she got the potato out again. She stared at it for a long time.

Marilla came to tell Anne goodnight and make sure she said her prayers. Marilla knocked, but did not wait for Anne to answer, and came in. Anne quickly put the potato under her covers.

* * *

In the morning Anne woke up with the potato underneath her, hurting her back. She hadn't taken it out of the bed the night before.

Marilla came in, wanting to see if Anne was all right, since she'd slept so late. She found Anne standing at her washbasin, just having finished washing her face. She was rubbing the sore place on her back where she'd rolled over on the potato.

"Is your back all right?" Marilla asked, concerned, coming over to her.

She saw the potato in the bed and frowned.

She gave Anne an odd look, and then pulled the blue buttons out of the potato's eyes.

"Anne, what on earth were you doing?" She handed the buttons over to Anne as she said sternly, "Go right down and wash these. Don't put them in the sink, they'll fall down the drain. Get a towel and soapy water and clean them on the countertop. Why on earth were you playing with a potato?"

Anne obeyed without rushing to explain herself, for once, and after following her to the kitchen, Marilla took out a peeler and a knife. "I don't like the idea of eating something you've been playing with- it's probably been all over the floor, hasn't it? But I'll peel it, and we can still eat the potato underneath."

Anne watched as Marilla peeled away at her baby. She jumped when Marilla chopped it in half.

"My goodness, what's the matter with you?" Marilla asked.

"Nothing," Anne said glumly.

"Potatoes are for eating, not for playing dolls with."

"I'm too old to play," Anne said.

"Really? You weren't too old to play last week."

Anne looked at the floor.

"...Are there any _more?_"

"No, Marilla."

"Are you telling the truth? If I go down to the cellar right now, I won't find a whole _village _of _potato-people?_"

"No. Honest. I swear."

"Don't swear. I realize you likely never had any toys, Anne, but make do the way the rest of us did- dolls out of bits of leftover cloth and such. Not wasting good food! There are people in the world going hungry, you know!"

"I know," Anne said softly. "I _was_ one."

Marilla's sharp look faded as she remembered that Anne had had precious little childhood already and now with a baby coming before her time, she was soon to lose even more. She turned away, her voice sounding husky as she said: "Never mind. Go ahead and play with whatever you like."


	35. Constant Company

"I want everybody to go away and leave me alone!" Anne shouted, stomping up the stairs.

Marilla was struggling. She was trying hard to be patient and understanding of Anne's situation, but at the same time, she felt that she should not allow a child she was raising to speak to her in such a way. And Marilla was confused by Anne's sudden upset. All she had asked her was if she had been able to finish her Sunday School book, and if she would mind taking some lunch out to Jerry. Anne became angry, and Gilbert had been surprised, too, at Anne's grouchy mood, when he came over. Based on her mood he asked her if she was still having back pain. Dr. Carter was there at the time, and became concerned at Gilbert's words, asking Anne questions about her back pain and wondered aloud if he ought to feel it, but Anne was against this, and told him to leave. When Marilla scolded Anne and told her that she really ought to _tell_ Dr. Carter when something hurt, Anne snapped at her.

"Anne, don't stomp like that! What if it could hurt the-"

Anne slammed her bedroom door so she wouldn't have to hear the rest of Marilla's warning.

As she slammed her door, the baby kicked her.

And at this point, the kicks felt like an insult.

She looked down at that awful bump in her dress and thought angrily: _ Even when I'm alone, I can't be alone! _

In a temper, she addressed the bump: "I told everybody to leave me alone- and that includes _you!_ Now stop bothering me!"

The baby stopped kicking.

Anne lay on her bed. Once she was all out of tears, she wiped her eyes on her pinafore and sighed.

She was all alone in her little garret room.

There was no sound coming from downstairs.

No one came up to check on her.

She knew logically that she'd told them _not_ to, and she would have been angry if they had, but now she felt hurt that no one did.

She lay a long time there on her bed, listening to the steady ticking of the clock.

She felt terribly lonely.

As she lay there all alone, she felt a gentle nudge from inside her.

"Hi," she said glumly, looking down at that bump in her dress.

After a moment she slid her hand over to where the push was, wondering if she might feel it again, but now it wasn't moving.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said.

There was no push.

"I didn't mean to."

Nothing happened.

She rubbed her belly, seeing if maybe it would nudge back.

But it wasn't doing anything.

"_Please_ come back," she begged, feeling desperately lonely and wanting the baby for company. "I won't yell at you again, I promise."

And then she felt a stronger push, right where her palm was laying.

Of course the kicks were purely coincidental and the baby did not know what Anne was saying to it, but Anne _thought_ it did.

When she felt another kick, she said, "I guess I'm not alone, anyway. You're always with me, aren't you?"

She rolled over a bit to be facing the window. Lying down, all she could see was the sky and a little bit of the tree. "I wish you could see the sky right now because it's the bluest blue there ever was. Although, you don't even know what blue _is_ yet."

The baby was still moving inside her.

"Do you want me to tell you a story? I know _lots_ of stories."

Anne thought. While she thought, she rubbed where she felt the baby.

"I know a story about three bears. You'll like that one. Babies always like bears." Then she remembered, "You don't know what a bear _is_. …You don't know _anything_. Well, when you finally get here I'll show you what a bear looks like. Then you'll understand the story better. Now. Once upon a time, there were three little bears. There was a mama bear, a papa bear, and a wee little baby bear. One morning they got up to eat their porridge, but the porridge was too hot…"

After a while Marilla went upstairs to check on Anne and to tell her that dinner was ready, _if_ she'd decided she was done with telling the world to leave her alone?

But as she came up the stairs, she heard Anne talking. Anne was sometimes an odd creature and Marilla wondered if she was engaged in some kind of fantasy in her own little world, or simply talking to herself.

"Did you like that story? Of course you don't know what porridge is, but it's something you can eat when you're older. Do _you_ eat, in there? Oh, I know you have to be eating, or you wouldn't grow, but _how_ do you eat? Does my food just fall down into your mouth? I'm sorry if I've eaten things you don't like. But I don't _know_ what you like, and you can't tell me. When you come out of there, all you can have is milk, but when you get bigger then you can tell me what you like to eat. I'm not a very good cook, but I'll try. Maybe you better eat Marilla's cooking instead. Everything _she_ makes is good. Did you like the cake we ate for my birthday? Marilla made that for me…for us. You know, it's _your_ birthday tomorrow, sort of. You'll be twenty-six weeks old. I know that isn't exactly a _birthday_, but you're turning another week older, and that's _something_, isn't it? Maybe you'd like to have a cake to celebrate."

Marilla smiled to herself and went softly back down the stairs. She wouldn't call Anne for dinner after all. She'd just let the smell of dinner come wafting up the stairs, and whenever Anne felt ready to come down, she would. For now, she was busy taking care of her baby.


	36. To Tell a Story

Marilla had gone up to Rachel's to borrow a cup of sugar. "I have to make another cake," she explained. "It's Anne's baby's birthday today, apparently."

"It's birthday?" Rachel asked.

"Yes. That's what she told me. She said its birthdays are on Tuesdays, and that it's twenty-six weeks old."

"That doesn't make a _bit_ of sense- there has to be a _birth_ before there can be a _birthday,_" Rachel said. "And saying the baby is weeks '_old_'? She's an odd one, counting it's age from the time it was conceived instead of from the time it's born. I suppose when it's _born_ she'll say it's _nine months old!_"

"Maybe she just wants cake," Marilla said with amusement. "But if she's decided to celebrate each new week of the baby's existence, that's a good sign, and one I thank God for."

"Yes," Rachel said, "Until you can't fasten your corset from eating cake every week."

* * *

While the "birthday" cake was baking, Marilla sat down to look over the newest mail order catalogs that had arrived. It seemed that once she ordered books on child care, she inadvertently got herself on some sort of mailing list, because advertisements and catalogs began arriving in their post, incorrectly addressed to Merilla Cuthburt. At first she had been annoyed by all the unsolicited advertising, but she eventually decided not to write to them to request the mail stop, because there may be something useful in it. Today there was a catalog of children's books.

Matthew came in and washed his hands, then commented on how good the cake smelled.

Marilla smiled at him, and he sat down, looking over the mail with her.

Anne came downstairs due to the inviting aroma.

"Are you making a birthday cake, Marilla?" she asked excitedly.

Marilla nodded. "Just like you wanted."

"What kind is it? Wait, don't tell me, I want to guess by the smell!"

Anne shut her eyes and made her way toward the oven, arms outstretched to feel her way.

"Anne!" Marilla said sharply, alarmed. "You'll burn your hands. Open your eyes at once!"

Anne stopped and opened them. She looked down at 'Merilla' with her catalog of books.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Children's books," Marilla said. "Perhaps you'd like to look and see if there's something you want."

Anne glanced down at the page. "Those are books for little children. I can read better than that."

"I meant for the baby, Anne."

"Oh."

Anne sat down to look. Feeling sure that the baby had liked her telling of The Three Bears- and with her promise to show it a real bear when it came out, because "_then you'll understand the story better"- _she thought she should see if there was a copy of The Three Bears, so she could make good on her promise.

"I don't know," she eventually said, looking at the prices. There were some cheaper books toward the bottom of the page, but the ones she couldn't help being most attracted to were beautiful volumes that cost more money than she felt comfortable asking for.

Matthew thought he knew the problem.

"We'll happily get you anything you like, Anne," he told her quietly.

She smiled at him, appreciating his gentle and giving ways.

Then she remembered, "I have my own money. Emily paid me last week."

Although, Emily's babysitting money didn't really go a long way. Anne wanted more than she could have. She appreciated Matthew's offer, but felt that since she had her own money, she ought to use it.

"You don't _just_ have your babysitting money," Marilla reminded her. "You have your own bank account- quite a hefty one- and you're free to do with it whatever you please. You could buy a whole library of books, and it wouldn't even make a dent."

Anne's face clouded over. "I don't want to use their money. I'd rather have nothing at all than use their money."

"But _you_ wouldn't be using it," Matthew said. "The _baby_ would be using it."

"That's what it's for, isn't it?" Marilla asked. "That's why they gave it to you- to buy things for the baby."

"They don't care about what the baby needs! They only gave us that money to try to smooth things over so the mess could go away. I'm surprised they didn't offer you money to move _away_ from Avonlea so they could pretend we don't exist!"

"Anne," Marilla said patiently. "They gave the money because they knew it wasn't _fair_ for Billy not to have to cover any of the expenses."

"Oh, it wasn't _fair_," Anne said, feeling bitter. "It wasn't fair for Billy not to cover any expenses? It's also not _fair_ for Billy not to have to change diapers and get up in the night with a crying baby and-"

"Would you want him to?" Marilla asked sharply. "You want him to come over here and be in our house with the baby? Or have to go over _there_ to bring the baby back and forth, so that it's _fair?"_

"No, I don't!" Anne said, angry. "I don't want to have anything to do with him…I just don't think it's fair that he doesn't _have_ to!"

"Well," Marilla said, more calmly now, "I know you were considering finding another home for the baby, and you mentioned how it would be difficult to even _locate_ someone. …But we never thought about the Andrews being a resource, there."

"They don't want it."

"No, I doubt they'd have any interest in _keeping_ it. But I suppose we could have at least _asked_. Suppose we _did_ ask, and they were willing. Would that be an acceptable solution to you? You wouldn't have to keep it, and you wouldn't have to try to find someone to take it, either."

Anne felt all right about the baby for a little while in her bedroom, but now the reminder of where it came from made it harder to accept. Still, she didn't really want the Andrews to take it off her hands. So she said, "…If they _found_ someone for it, maybe. But _not_ if they kept it themselves!"

Marilla nodded. "We can ask them to be on the lookout, then. They might be of some assistance there."

Anne hesitated. "But what if they _didn't_ find someone and then they decided to just _keep_ it?"

"Well, I don't know, Anne. I…I hate to think they'd treat the baby as a _pawn_, but I suppose once they were in possession of it, they might make trouble for you if you wanted it back…I don't want to worry you, but it's best to be realistic."

That settled it; Anne could not allow the Andrews to be involved in finding a home for the baby, just in case they would decide to hold it from her if she wanted it back.

"I hate feeling like there are no choices," Anne said, upset.

Matthew hugged her close to him.

She said glumly, "You know what? I wish Billy wanted to see the baby…I wish he was just _begging_ to see it. Because then I could tell him no and _refuse_ to let him see it, and then _he'd_ see how it feels to be left with no choice!"

"I know," Matthew said quietly. "It weren't right."

The smell of the baby's 'birthday' cake was filling the kitchen. "Poor little thing," Anne said softly, looking down. "I'm _sorry_. I'll get you some books, even though I don't like using their money…I won't let my hating them keep you from having nice things."

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other.

Trying to ignore the aspect of shopping that involved using the Andrew's money, Anne enjoyed looking through the catalogs. She circled the things she liked.

But soon her face changed, and she pushed the catalog away from her.

"Anne?" Matthew asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

Marilla took the catalog from her.

Anne's eyes had storm clouds behind them.

Finally Anne explained, "Look at the story books."

"What are we looking for?" Marilla asked, as she and Matthew looked down at the page.

"Don't you notice anything about the titles and the pictures of the book covers?"

"No," Marilla admitted. "Should I have?"

She pointed quickly to each book cover that stood out to her.

The two tried to find something they all had in common, but he came up emptyhanded.

"Almost every story is…" she shook her head. "They just won't _work_. …Not if I _keep_ the baby. None of them work."

"Can you tell us why?" Matthew and Marilla were confused: For all Anne talked, she wasn't always very good at explaining herself.

"The three bears. A mama and papa bear with their baby bear. Oh and here's one called My Mama and Papa Love Me. And here's a good one- The Little Family! Don't you see? I _can't_ give the baby stories that have a mama and a papa and all that. What if the little creature asks why he- or she- doesn't have…what _they_ have?"

"Not _all_ the stories are like that," Marilla said gently. "Three Little Pigs doesn't have parents in it. Neither does the Three Billy Goats Gruff. And here's Henny Penny, that's a good one."

Matthew began searching the page for more books. "There are fairy tales, Anne, those don't always have mothers and fathers."

Marilla said, reasonably, "When the baby's little, it won't be connecting stories to _life._ He- or she- will just be listening to them for entertainment."

"I can't risk it," she said firmly.

Matthew nodded. "All right. I'm sure there are more in here that don't. We'll just have to keep looking, that's all."

"I like this one," Anne said wistfully. "The cover looks _so_ pretty. It's a book of prayers and it starts out with a poem called '_Out in the Fields with God_'. Doesn't that sound _lovely?_ And I _can't_ get it because it likely has some little verse in it about thanking God for our mothers and fathers."

"Order it," Matthew told her. "And if it has something about fathers, we'll send it back."

Anne was sad. "Things will always be this way. For me. For the baby. If I keep it. Even if I find books that don't say anything about fathers, at some point the baby's going to play with other children, or go to school and it'll come up. She, or he, is going to come home and ask me why every _other_ child has a father and not _them_."

Marilla and Matthew did not know what to say.

But Anne went on, trying to find solutions: "Maybe I could pretend to be a widow! I'll tell the little creature that his father died tragically when he…saved someone's life. In a terrible accident. He was a hero! No, that won't work- I'll still be here in Avonlea, too many people know the _truth_. Besides, nobody in their right mind would look at a girl my age and believe she's a widow! They'd know I'm just an unwed mother."

After a moment of thought, she said: "I suppose if it asks where it's father is, I'll say, '_You don't have one. I'm sorry. I never had one either, so I understand how you must feel sad about not having one, it is very unfortunate'_. …Do you think that's _enough_? …No, no, it's _not_; what if the baby asks _why_ it doesn't have one? I suppose I'll have to tell them_, 'You_ _have a father, but only in the sense that every person born must have had one- a baby doesn't get made without a mother and a father, after all- so, yes, you do have a father- but you can't meet him.' …_Ugh, no, because then it'll just ask _why_ it can't meet him!"

"Don't borrow trouble, Anne, you won't have to think of such things for many years," Marilla told her. "But if you're so insistent on going down this path of thought, and I can't detract you from it, then fine, if the baby asks why it can't meet it's own father then you ought to just say that he lives far away, off the island, and he can't come back, and then you remind the baby that it's got lots of other lovely people around it who all love it so much…that should be enough for a small child, I think."

Anne considered that. "You don't think he, or she, will have more questions?"

"Not so young."

"I'm worried- when they grow up they're going to have questions- and I don't know the best way to handle them."

"I think at some point, when this baby is an adult or close to it, that you'll just have to tell them the truth."

"Then maybe I _shouldn't_ keep it," Anne said with a sigh. "Not if I'll have to tell it the truth."

Matthew looked at her with love and hope in his eyes. "Don't think on it too much. Things have a way of working out."


	37. And Gilbert Tells a Story, Too

"What did you decide to order?"

Gilbert was sitting with Anne that evening, looking at the book catalogs again. Anne had explained her worry about books that had fathers in them. Gilbert felt for her, but before he could say or do anything to make her feel better, Anne explained that Marilla and Matthew had helped her make some choices, and now she was showing Gilbert what they were.

"Henny Penny- I don't even know what that is, but Marilla suggested it."

Gilbert explained the plot: "It's about a hen who thinks the sky is falling. A nut landed on her head. Oh, and then there's another Henny Penny story where she's wearing a coat, and then she and some other animals go to market, but Henny Penny can't go because she's stuck- she got her coat caught in the door. The story's all about how to get her free so she can go on to the market."

"Why doesn't she just take her coat off?" Anne asked.

Gilbert, his eyes twinkling, said, "Shhh! Anne, you'll spoil the ending!"

Anne couldn't help laughing.

Gilbert addressed the baby: "I'm sorry, little Cordelia, I hope you weren't listening to that. She just ruined the story for you."

Seeing Anne laugh, he felt his heart lift up.

Anne went on, "And I'll order the three little pigs, and the billy goats gruff. And some fairy tales. Thumbelina, Cinderella,… some others, I forget." She looked at the catalog. "Oh, this one is _pretty_. Look at the cover! There's nothing on it but painted_ ivy and roses._ Maybe I'll get it. What's it called? Rapunzel…"

Realizing she was making a mistake, he quickly said, "No, not Rapunzel."

"What's wrong with Rapunzel?" Anne asked, not familiar with that story.

"Uh…nothing. It's just not a good story."

"_Gilbert_. Tell me."

"Well, it's about a man who's wife is pregnant, and she's very sick, and the only thing she wants to eat is rampion, but the only place there was any rampion was a witch's garden. It was next to them so he just climbed over the wall and stole some-"

"Why do they live next door to a witch?" Anne interrupted.

"I…I don't know, Anne. That's just how the story goes. One night the witch catches him, and she says he has to choose- his wife or his baby. The witch will put a spell on his wife that will kill her, unless the man promises to give her their baby once it's been born."

"This is a _children's_ story?" Anne asked.

He nodded.

"Well, that can't be the _end_. What did he _do?"_

"He…uh, well, he didn't want his wife to die, so he promised the witch she could have their baby."

"Oh," Anne said. "Did his wife know?"

"I guess not. The wife kept on eating rampion-"

"What's rampion, anyway?" Anne wondered.

"I don't know- bellflower, I think. Anyway, she kept on eating it and she wasn't sick anymore, but then when the baby came, the witch took it."

"You'd think her husband would have come up with some sort of _plan_ in the time they had before the baby came," Anne pointed out. "At least they could have moved away. But no, they just kept on living there, right next door to the witch, and just waited around till the baby was born, for her to take it away?"

"I never said the story made a lot of sense."

"Did the witch…did the witch _kill_ the baby?"

"No, she just kept her. Then when the girl turned twelve she locked her away in a high tower."

"Why on earth?" Anne asked.

"She was jealous of her beauty. The girl was in the tower for two years, but then one day the king's son came riding through the forest on a horse and he saw her hair and climbed up it-"

"He climbed her hair?" Anne asked, making a face.

"I forgot that part. She had really long hair."

"Well, go on."

"So, um…the king's son visited her pretty often…and then one day when the witch came back, Rapunzel asked why her dresses had started feeling so tight around the waist-"

"Oh, Gilbert!"

"That's what it says in the story!" he said, his hands up.

"And this is for _children?" _Anne asked. "It doesn't give any _detail_ about that part of things, does it?"

"…Only that the king's son really, really liked visiting Rapunzel."

"I should say so! …Wait a minute, she was _only_ fourteen!"

He nodded. "Well, she didn't know anything. So anyway, one day the witch pushed the king's son out of the tower and he fell and landed on thorns that went straight through his eyes-"

"I hope this book doesn't have pictures!" Anne said, horrified.

"He wandered around the forest, blind, for years-"

"How did he eat? What did he live on?"

"Plants, I guess. So-"

"But he couldn't _see_, how would he know what plants were safe to eat?" Anne reminded him. Then she had a new thought: "Do you think the thorns were _still_ in his eyes? Or did he pull them out?"

"I don't know, Anne. But one day he was found by a boy and a girl- twins- who led him back to their mother, Rapunzel, and she realized of course that he was the father of their twins, and…they lived happily ever after?"

Gilbert had never thought of how this story sounded.

Anne's eyes were big. "Well, I won't buy that book!"

Gilbert gave her a sheepish grin. "You won't have to. I _have_ it."

"You heard that awful story as a small child?" Anne asked.

"How'd you think I know it so well?" He laughed. "Brother's Grimm. First version. Apparently there's a second version, though, that doesn't mention the bit about her dresses getting tight around the waist. They changed it."

Anne shook her head. "Version one or two are _both_ out. Ugh."

Then she sighed. "There's not much else here to choose from. Everything's got fathers. I'm sad for the poor little thing...almost makes me not even want to keep it, if it'll have to be told someday about who it's...father...is."

"Anne…"

"_What?" _

Gilbert took a breath, then let it out. "Nothing. It's your decision. I shouldn't interfere. But I really don't think you should worry too much about it. Just…wait and see what the future brings."

"How is the _future_ going to fix the _past?"_ Anne asked him. "_Gilbert_," she said, starting to see what was in the back of his mind. "I know you want to get married."

"Yes, I do."

"It isn't that I _don't_. But...even if we _did_, it wouldn't be for years and years." Anne sighed. "And I suppose _you_ think that if we get married, the bit about fathers won't matter anymore. But it will. It _will_. And even if it didn't, at some point he or she is going to realize that the date of our wedding was _years_ _after_ the date of their birth!"

"I understand."

"Gilbert, even if we _do_ get married, you'll probably never have children, because as I said before, I just can't do that. I can't…be intimate. It's not possible."

"I understand."

"So you'll have _no_ children of your _own_, and to add insult to injury, the only parenting you'll do is for the child your wife had with another man."

"I understand."

"Stop saying that!"

"Well, I _do_. What am I _supposed_ to say? None of that is anything I didn't already know! If you were saying it thinking you were going to scare me off, you haven't. You can't."

Anne leaned into him with a sigh. She loved him for all his patient and gentle ways, but she was grumpy at him for the very same reason.


	38. Urgent Requests, and Rachel's Advice

"Gilbert?" Anne asked suddenly, looking up. "Would you get me some marzipan? And some black licorice? And some pumpkin butter?"

Gilbert was surprised by the sudden request.

"Please- I _need_ to have it." Anne begged. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. "I need to have it right _now_."

"Of course," he said, a bit bewildered but willing nonetheless. "I'll go now."

He got up and started to leave.

Marilla met him at the door, coming in with Rachel Lynde behind her. "Leaving already?" Marilla asked him, surprised because he had arrived such a short time ago.

"No- just going to ride into town and get Anne some candy. Good day, Mrs. Lynde," Gilbert acknowledge.

"Oh, that's nice of you," Marilla said to him.

Gilbert laughed. "She needs it now or she's going to die, so I figured I better make haste."

Marilla frowned. "What do you mean she must have it now or she'll die?" She came further into the room. "Anne, are you all right?"

Anne nodded. "Yes, but I want some black licorice. And marzipan. And pumpkin butter. I _need_ it so badly. ...Gilbert, why haven't you _left_ yet?"

Marilla came over to her, concerned. Then she shook her head. "You mustn't eat those things."

Anne looked startled at being told she couldn't. "Why not? I know candy isn't good for you, but I hardly _ever_ eat it- it can't be bad to indulge once in a while, can it?"

"That's not it. In the book I ordered- about pregnancy- the author, a Dr. Kellogg, says you mustn't give in to cravings while you're pregnant. I didn't know that before- I just read that yesterday, and-"

Anne was crushed. "But Marilla I _have _to have it!"

"And that's exactly why you can't," Marilla said firmly.

Anne looked at Gilbert with pleading eyes.

Gilbert was standing at the door, ready to go- but unsure of what to do. He knew Anne would feel betrayed if he sided with Miss Cuthbert. And he _wanted_ to give Anne what she wanted, but he felt stuck; if Miss Cuthbert wouldn't allow something, he really could not go over her head and give it to Anne anyway, could he?

But Rachel Lynde, with all her experience, was prepared to take up for Anne in this matter, saying, "Marilla, that doctor is either foolhardy or he's lying about his expertise! Babies are always born with _some_ sort of mark upon them when the mother was kept from what she wanted!"

Marilla began, "Oh, _Rachel-"_

"If you don't give in to her, that baby's going to be born with horrible birthmarks and disfigurements! You mark my words, that's what'll happen!" Rachel insisted. "I went through this many times, and I'll have you know that I _never_ limited myself, and not one of my babies arrived disfigured!"

"It's just an old wives' tale!" Marilla protested, giving Rachel a look as if she was being ridiculous.

"The reason the advice has been passed down is because it's _true_," Rachel insisted. "They wouldn't keep being repeated generation after generation if there wasn't some kernel of truth to it, would they?"

"No!" Marilla said adamantly. She went over to the cabinet and took a book out. "Now it says _right_ here in this book- Dr. Kellogg says that yielding to such desires creates weakness and mustn't be allowed."

Anne could have cried.

Marilla read from the book: "_The craving which pregnant women often experience for various articles of food cannot be regarded as an expression of a real want upon the part of the system-" _

"It _is_ a real want!" Anne said, almost yelling.

Marilla quieted her with one look, and then continued:_ "The craving is not so strong that it cannot be readily controlled by a little determination on the part of the prospective mother-"_

Anne asked incredulously, "How can that _man_ tell _me_ how strong _my_ cravings are?!" Then she was angry: "Let's give _him_ some pregnancy cravings and see how _he_ copes with '_a little determination'!"_

"Anne, calm yourself this instant," Marilla said firmly. She continued: "_The article craved is manifestly an improper one…the will should be set actively at work to resist the morbid appetite."_

"Marilla, that's horrible!" Anne finally _did_ yell. "And it's not right! How can you believe what that- that _fraud; _what that _charlatan_\- says? Let me have what I _want!_ I'll _die_ if I don't get it! I _will!_ And then…_you'll be sorry!"_

"Anne, I won't have you going into hysterics! Stop shouting and sit down; you're not to get agitated. You know, you won't take care of yourself a bit_, I_ have to, and I certainly can't trust you to make wise decisions for yourself, now can I? You've done nothing _sensible_ since all this started."

Gilbert looked back and forth between them, with the awkwardness that comes from watching another family fighting with each other in front of outsiders.

Marilla took a deep breath, and then- more calmly- told Anne to try to come to her senses and do what was best for her baby.

But Anne looked miserable and said pitifully, "I have to go through this awful, horrible thing and _you_ won't even let me have some candy…"

Gilbert could not take seeing Anne so unhappy and finally spoke up: "I hope you don't consider this to be an intrusion, but I'm reading a book by a Dr. West- Maidenhood and Motherhood- and I happen to have it with me-"

"Really?" Marilla asked, her eyebrows raised. "_You_ are reading a book called Maidenhood and Motherhood?"

"Yes, ma'am. And in it, the doctor mentions what Mrs. Lynde said- about birth marks- and he says that it's _true_. See-"

Gilbert went to the kitchen table, pulled a volume from his bookstrap, and quickly brought himself to the right page. "The doctor says that cravings are perfectly normal and healthy. He says that bad things can happen if she isn't given in to. This is what it says: _This craving will sometimes compel her to get up at midnight to eat. She may desire only certain kinds of food, or, perhaps, drink. If she refuses to satisfy this craving for particular kinds of food, the thought of it will haunt her day and night." _He looked up at Marilla as he finished: "_The unsatisfied craving may show itself, as in birth-marks upon the child. It is advisable, therefore, as far as may be without injury, to satisfy all such cravings."_

"It is advisable, therefore, to satisfy all such cravings," Anne repeated staunchly, looking at Marilla. "It _can't_ be an old wives' tale, can it? Not if a doctor wrote it in a book!"

"Well…two professionals can have differing opinions," Marilla said, troubled.

Finally she decided: "But I must do for Anne what I believe to be the proper way, and I trust this Dr. Kellogg. He seems to be a _highly_ reputable fellow. …I'm going by what _his_ book says, and Anne must do as I say. That's all there is to it."

Anne put her head down on the table, her arms covering her face.

Gilbert felt bad for Anne. Suddenly he had an idea. "I don't mean to be impertinent, but…when was the book published?"

Marilla checked. "1884," she told him. "Why?"

"Mine has a publishing date of 1887. Perhaps in the past three years medicine has proven that it's true. Maybe there was some sort of advancement. Your Dr. Kellogg might even have changed _his_ opinion in the past three years. …This newer book might even reflect his current practices."

Marilla looked conflicted. "I suppose it is possible…"

She glanced around at the three faces staring at her, waiting for her decision.

Finally she said, "I must admit I don't agree with Dr. Kellogg on _everything_. He devotes a great deal of time to say that girls have equal mental capabilities to that of boys- which I _appreciate_\- but _then_ he says that because of the delicate nervous system of females, study can be hazardous to her constitution, and that reading novels can be as harmful as an addiction to opium."

"Does he?" Rachel asked, interested.

Marilla said slowly, "He says that girls who are between the ages of twelve and twenty and have devoted themselves to study, will do lifelong damage to their health. He says that many girls spend too much time on what he calls '_useless_ accomplishments' instead of taking the time to learn to run a home…"

"I don't doubt it," Rachel said, agreeing. "I never thought it benefitted any girl to be sent off to college along with the men. Higher education will do a girl no good. Perhaps Dr. Kellogg knows what he's talking about, then. I certainly wouldn't approve of you sending Anne off to college."

Marilla stared at her. "Rachel, not _every_ girl marries. You can't say it hurts to get an education in order to provide for yourself!"

"No, no, Marilla- your Dr. Kellogg here knows what he's talking about, and I quite agree with him!"

Anne wanted to say something, but kept her mouth shut, afraid that anything she said would just be reason for Marilla to deny her what she wanted.

"All right," Marilla consented at last: "Gilbert may get you what it is you're craving."

Anne was so happy she bounded to Marilla and wrapped her in a hug.

Marilla laughed.

"Gilbert, go," Anne insisted.

Gilbert couldn't help laughing too.

"Here, let me get you some money-" Marilla began, going to her purse.

"Oh, thank you, but no- I want to get it for Anne myself, as a little present. Please allow me," he asked.

Marilla hesitated, but then closed her purse and nodded.

Gilbert went quickly out the door to the buggy.

Anne followed him, with Marilla rushing out after her- afraid Anne thought she could go into town with him.

But Anne wasn't trying to go with Gilbert, she just wanted to remind him: "Don't forget anything!" she called out. "I need it _all_. I can't eat the licorice without the marzipan and the pumpkin butter. It has to _all_ be there. You won't forget, will you?"

"Trust me, Anne, I don't think I will ever, ever be able to forget the combination of black licorice, marzipan, and pumpkin butter. I can promise you that."

He began to drive, but then she said: "Oh, Gilbert!"

He stopped.

She smiled. "If you happen to meet a witch while you're getting it for me, don't promise to give her the baby in exchange for something I want to eat. …I know I don't really want a baby, but I don't want to trade it to a witch, either."

He got the horses moving, shaking his head with a laugh as he went.

Marilla looked startled. "What in the world was _that_ all about?"

Anne smiled. "Nothing. Just a story Gilbert was telling me."

Marilla led Anne back into the house as she said, "Well, it doesn't sound like a suitable story at all, especially not at a time when you're supposed to be calm and undisturbed!"


	39. Licorice, Butter, and Marzipan

"Hi, Gilbert!" Jane said, surprised to have bumped into him.

Gilbert smiled and said hello.

"My, that's a lot of candy," Jane commented, seeing his basket.

"Well, it's preventative medicine," he explained with a bit of a laugh. "I'm keeping Anne from dying. Apparently she must have marzipan and black licorice, with pumpkin butter, or she's going to die. She threatened us she would; we better take her seriously."

Jane laughed. "It's an odd assortment."

"I didn't tell you the best part- she wants to eat them all together. As in, the pumpkin butter on the black licorice and in the same bite with the marzipan."

"Ugh," Jane shuddered. "That's awful!"

Gilbert grinned. "I know. But it's what she's craving, and I've got to give it to her. Can't have her dying from an alarming lack of licorice."

"What about all the rest?" Jane asked.

"That's preventative, too," he explained. "I figure I'll ask Miss Cuthbert just to tuck it away somewhere and save it. Then she'll have it on hand in case the store isn't open when there's something else Anne will die without."

Jane's mother was approaching as Jane said, "Well, if Anne's going to die without it, then-"

Mrs. Andrews grabbed her arm and yanked her away- just short of roughly- saying, "Come along, Jane- we have things to do."

Jane almost protested but saw her mother was in no mood to be trifled with. "Gilbert- I'm sorry- I'll see you at school-"

"Oh- that's all right," Gilbert told her. "I have to get home to Anne, anyway."

Jane smiled at him as she was pulled away by her mother.

Once there was a _little_ distance between them, Mrs. Andrews said sharply, "You shouldn't talk to him."

"Why not?" Jane asked, bewildered.

"Because," Mrs. Andrews said in a clipped voice. No other explanation was needed.

Jane was sad.

Then Mrs. Andrews said- in a tone Jane could not recognize- "What did the two of you mean, Anne is going to die without something? I caught the tail end."

Jane answered, "He was buying candy for her. And pumpkin butter. She said she was craving it so badly she thought she'd die without it."

"Oh," her mother said, letting out a breath. Jane thought her mother seemed very relieved, which was odd since she did not care for Anne or want to hear anything about her.

"Were you worried it was something serious, Mother?" Jane asked, interested.

"No, I was not. That…girl…is none of our concern." Mrs. Andrews voice returned to it's normal tone, and she moved Jane along faster.

But Mrs. Andrews was relieved.

She had given Anne money, but if there was some other pressing need- one that they couldn't provide for whatever reason- and Anne's life was at risk without it, she'd feel that she and her husband _had_ to step in and provide it. No matter how much she despised that girl, Anne could not come to harm.

She knew what her son did- Anne was becoming a mother because of it- but if she died, it would be her son's fault. Her son was already a rapist. Mrs. Andrews could not let him become a murderer too.

* * *

When Gilbert returned to Green Gables, Anne was lying on the sofa upside down- her head hanging off it where her legs should be, and her stocking feet up where her head should be.

"Anne, why on earth are you upside down?" Marilla asked.

"I am miserably awaiting the arrival of my treasures," Anne said, looking at Marilla's face, which was upside down to her. "I mean Gilbert, I am miserably awaiting the arrival of Gilbert. Marilla, have you ever wondered what you look like upside down?"

"I have not," Marilla said, unamused.

Anne practically jumped up when there was a knock at the door.

Letting Gilbert in, she threw herself to him and laughing, he hugged her too.

He came into the kitchen with his bag and took the marzipan, licorice, and pumpkin butter out, with Anne acting like a child on Christmas morning.

Soon they were sitting together at the table, Gilbert eating an apple while Anne scarfed down her bizarre feast.

"I hope that won't make you sick," he said, watching her.

"No, it won't, it's just what I needed," she insisted, biting into the licorice and then putting a bite of marzipan into her mouth with it, followed by a spoon of pumpkin butter.

He shook his head. "Well, it makes _me_ sick just to look at it."

She laughed, and when she did, he did too.

After Anne had her fill and felt satisfied, she suddenly asked him, "Why are you reading that book?"

"What book?" Gilbert asked, seeing her take one last lick of pumpkin butter.

"The one called Maidenhood and Motherhood," Anne prompted.

Gilbert could detect the slightest hint of disapproval in her voice. He tread carefully. "I was just hoping to be useful, that's all. I figured the more we all know, the better. Miss Cuthbert has been reading a lot, too." He added in the part about Miss Cuthbert in order to remove some of the attention from himself.

"Why didn't you ever tell me that?" Anne asked. She didn't want to be upset with Gilbert, especially not after he had given her what she wanted, but for some reason, she didn't like that he'd been reading about pregnancy and childbirth, even though his reading was part of why she had been able to have the licorice and marzipan in the first place.

"I was worried. Not that there's anything to be worried about," he added quickly. "Everything is going to be fine. I just...had questions."

Anne blushed, and in the same accusing tone, said, "I hope there aren't any _pictures_ in that book."

"No," Gilbert lied. He didn't want Anne to feel as though she was being spied on.

* * *

As wonderful as her strange feast had tasted to her, the black licorice did not agree with her and she was plagued all evening with stomach pains, leaving her unable to eat her dinner.

Marilla was muttering that she knew she'd made the wrong choice. "And this is what can happen," she said. "The doctor wrote in his book that no matter how much you desire something, you mustn't be allowed to have it!" She shook her head, worried that she had caused Anne harm by relenting, and said, "I knew I shouldn't have given in to you! Well, you're paying for it now, aren't you?"


	40. Friends

Marilla was sewing.

When she'd tried to make a new dress for Anne- one with an empire waist and quite a larger skirt, so her midsection would not feel constricted- Anne had balked at this, and Marilla could not understand why until she realized that Anne did not want a bigger dress because accepting a bigger dress meant accepting the fact that she going to continue to grow larger. But Marilla worked on it anyway, because it was needed.

She also began working on a pretty nightgown for Anne. She made the nightgown with puffed sleeves, for starters, smiling to herself as she worked. She sewed little pearl-like buttons down the front, and made the skirt edged in ruffles of eyelet. The front she decorated with lace.

When the nightgown was finished, she shook her head to herself thinking about the ridiculousness of the whole thing, but knew in her heart that she'd do anything to make this bad situation easier on Anne. The doctor had spoken to Marilla about the recovery time he expected for Anne, telling Marilla to expect the time of convalescence after the baby arrived to be longer than ordinary births, because of Anne being so young. Imagining Anne recuperating for days or even weeks with an unwanted baby by her side, made her want to try to think of things she could do to make those days just a bit easier.

A pretty nightgown would not fix anything- but if Anne had to rest for such a long time in bed, she could at least give her something pretty to wear during her time of lying in.

* * *

Anne missed Diana terribly, though Gilbert was a good little postman, taking letters back and forth from school to home.

As Anne sat hungrily waiting for dinner to be ready, she held a letter to her cheek, looking most melancholy, and told Marilla, "This is a letter from my beloved Diana, my bosom friend, who is most agonizingly being kept from me."

Marilla sighed. Must Anne make _everything _dramatic? She could not receive a simple handwritten note without making it into a theatrical production.

Matthew said gently, "I'm sure she'll come round soon and see you."

"No," Anne said sadly. "She will not. Because Mrs. Barry doesn't want her to see- well, to see- _this_," Anne motioned toward her belly, which had begun to protrude even more.

"She'll let her come after the baby is born," Marilla said briskly, trying to act as if whatever Mrs. Barry thought was of no importance.

"If I send it _away_," Anne reminded her. "She wants it to be as if it never happened. And maybe I _should _send it away. Otherwise I'll never be allowed to be friends with her the way we used to be!"

Marilla looked at Matthew, shaking her head a bit. Anne was so..._young_.

Marilla told her, "This is your baby, Anne. I know you're struggling with that and perhaps it doesn't feel real to you yet. But this is your baby. Your baby must come before your friends. The decision about whether to have it stay with you is a _serious _one and _must _be made for the _right _reasons. And being worried you won't get to have a friend come over, is _not _a good reason."

"Well, then, what _is _a good reason?" Anne said desperately. "Because I cannot think of any reason more important than Diana!"

Marilla tried to be patient. "A good reason would be that you think someone else is better suited to bring the baby up," she explained. "You'll never have to worry about money, so you don't have that aspect to consider. But perhaps you feel that the baby would be better off in a family with a mother and father and other children."

She softened a bit: "Or if you feel that you cannot be objective about the baby because of the way it was given to you. That is very understandable, too. ...I don't know what that would feel like, and I wouldn't judge you at all, dear, for not feeling able to rise up to that task."

Then she was firm. "But making the baby leave because your friend's mother won't let you visit, is not a good enough reason."

* * *

At school Diana had a box of chocolates. All the girls wanted them, but Diana refused to open the box for any of them.

"I want to share these with Anne", she told Gilbert. "My Aunt Josephine sent them to me." Then, as if realizing it was rude to hand them to him without offering one, she added, "Of course you must try them too."

Gilbert smiled, but hesitated. "I don't know, Diana...it might not be a good idea to give these to her..."

"Why not?" Diana asked with a frown.

Gilbert answered, "Would it be easy to get _more _of them?"

"I couldn't ask Aunt Josephine for more- that would be rude."

"It's just, if you give these to Anne, she'll probably like them- a _lot- _and she'll just want more of them. ...And then she'll be miserable because she won't be able to get any more."

"You don't think the box will be enough for her? There are twenty-four chocolates, after all, and Anne isn't gluttonous."

"Oh," Gilbert said, raising his eyebrows. "You mean for her to have the _whole _box? I thought you just wanted me to bring her a few."

"No," Diana smiled. "_I'm_ not even eating _one_; I want to give them all to _her_."

Gilbert loved Diana.

"Giving her the whole box is wonderful," Gilbert said, relieved. "She should be happy with the whole box, I'd think."

Diana was happy, but she'd have been happier if she could give them to Anne herself.

And Anne did _not _eat the whole box- Gilbert, Matthew, and Marilla each had one bite.

* * *

"Now I won't have _any _friends. Diana can't see me until you go- um, I mean she might not be allowed to see me. And Ruby's mother is still iffy on me because she wanted me to get married. Tillie is all right, at least, so I guess I do still have her. But Jane wants to be my friend and can't, because...because...well, I don't want to tell you about _that _part. Maybe you already know? I don't know how much _you _know about how you came to be? Maybe you don't know anything- I hope you don't."

She walked along, trailing her finger along the fence.

"Anyway, it's awfully hard to have any friends right now. Especially since I can't go to school."

Then she had a new thought. "_You're_ my friend, aren't you?" she asked brightly.

"I thought we couldn't be, because you were so mean to me at first. All that kicking. It isn't nice. You shouldn't hit people! But Gilbert thinks you were just trying to say hello, and I think maybe he was right. And Mrs. Lynde says you _have _to stretch out and move around, because you're growing. So I guess you didn't really _mean _to hit me at all. ...I think now we'll get along with each other better- now that we understand each other. I'm glad we can talk things over between us, aren't you?"

"Who are you talking to?" Jerry asked.

Startled, Anne turned around. She blushed deeply. She did not know that Jerry was there.

Jerry saw her hand go to her midsection and her face turn pink.

"Oh," he said. "You were talking to _it_."

Anne looked everywhere but at Jerry.

"How does it talk to _you?" _he asked.

"What?"

"You said _'we can talk things over between us'_\- what does that mean?" Jerry asked.

Anne shrugged. "It pokes at me when it has something to say."

"It kicks, you mean," Jerry nodded.

"No, it does not _kick_," Anne said, offended. "It..._nudges_. When it wants to be noticed. Or when it wants me to talk to it. ...And it does it _politely_."

"All right," Jerry said with a little laugh.

Anne finally smiled; she couldn't help it, there was something about Jerry that was making her warm up to him.

"I'm sorry you can't go to school where your friends are," he said. She could tell he meant it.

She shrugged. "It's all right."

"That boy who is always here," Jerry said hesitantly. "He is your friend, isn't he?"

Anne blushed. "Yeah. We're friends. ...I guess."

"I will go back to my work," Jerry said, seeing her discomfort. He started to walk back toward the barn. "You have a new friend, too."

"I do?"

"Me," Jerry called to her. "I'm your friend."


	41. Tillie and Jane Visit Anne

Anne missed the girls.

Gilbert was with her nearly every day, and she saw Emily twice a week, and the Sunday School teacher came- and now she had Jerry- but it wasn't the _same _as having the girls at school.

She was overjoyed one day when Tillie and Jane came over unexpectedly.

Tillie's parents were understanding of Anne, so she did not have to worry about her visit, but Jane was coming over in secret because her parents would not have approved.

"It isn't a lie, really," Jane said. "I said I was spending the day with Tillie...and I _am_."

Anne smiled, then laughed. She was so happy to see them. So happy that it took several minutes before she remembered to be embarrassed about her belly. Tillie and Jane could tell the very moment it hit her- she suddenly blushed, looking down, and crossed her arms, as if that could somehow hide it.

"Come in," she said quickly.

The girls came into the parlor and were met with Anne's sewing. Pieces of fabric cut out and laying over patterns, straight pins, a tape measure, a pin cushion, and bits of lace were strewn across the coffee table.

"Oh, Anne," Tillie said. "Are you making a new dress? All by yourself? I couldn't do that. Not ever. My mother would have to do it for me."

Anne shook her head. "No. Well, I guess I _am_. ...But not for _me_." She blushed again. "Anyway, come sit down, I'll just clear away all these things, and-"

"Wait, can't we look at them?" Tillie asked.

Anne bit her lip. "I guess you can. If you really want to."

Jane and Tillie sat right down and began looking at Anne's work.

Finally Anne sat down, joining them.

"I really like _pink_ dresses," she told them. "But I don't know if it'll have red hair, so I can't."

Jane smiled. "You can make whatever color you like. It won't mind wearing pink. It won't even _know_ it has red hair, Anne, and it certainly won't know that people say a redhead shouldn't wear pink."

"But _I'll_ know," Anne said decidedly. "I can't dress the poor creature in pink if it's got red hair! Girls, this baby is going to be an unpleasant thing for me to have to look at already, so I shouldn't make it look any worse!"

Jane thought Anne was being silly. But trying to sound more helpful, she asked, "Well, you have lots of pretty colors here."

"Marilla got me the fabric. I expected her to come home with brown and gray, like she got for _my _clothes! But she didn't. She got me this bright, sky-blue kind of blue. And this purply blue is called 'periwinkle'. Isn't that just a delicious word? I just love the way it sounds- _periwinkle_. And this mint green color- it's very restful, don't you think? But my favorite is this really lovely violet."

"That's nice of her," Jane said pleasantly. "She must want you to have some fun with it."

"Yes," Anne said. "I felt anguished when she said we needed to start working on preparations, but I suppose it isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I don't really like sewing all that much. I find it hard to sit and be still for so long, and there isn't much scope for the imagination when all it is is needle in, needle out, over and over. Stitching takes such a terribly long time. But I do like being able to add things to the clothes- ruffles and lacy things. That part is nice."

Tillie picked up a periwinkle bonnet with lace around it. "She even got you _lace? _Oh, Anne, it's _so _pretty."

Anne frowned. "I bet she regrets it. I didn't know how to do that part and _she's _had to. ...She's done a lot of the sewing herself, really. She's faster than me, and she can use the machine. She only lets _me _use the machine if she's right there hovering over me!"

"Well, it's nice she's helping," Tillie said.

"Yes. And then Emily Perkins- who I babysit for- gave me _all_ of Clara's outgrown clothes. I'll have to give them all back to her once the baby's outgrown them. I'm sure she and her husband will have more children, and they'll want their clothes back when they do."

"That _is _nice," Tillie said. "It gives you less sewing to do!"

"Not _really_," Anne explained. "I thought I wouldn't need to work on any at all, since I'd have Clara's, but Marilla told me I had to work on my own still. I think she just doesn't want us to rely so much on Clara's clothes; she wants to make sure we give them back to Emily in good condition and not all worn out. Her newborn things are _lovely_. They're all pale yellow, and have such intricate needlework on them. And she let me borrow an ivory-colored quilted wrap that's the most beautiful thing."

"Yellow is good," Jane said. "Yellow looks good with red hair."

"I hope it won't have red hair, though. Having red hair is a burden."

Jane told her a lie that she meant to be kind: "I think red hair is pretty."

"But people make fun of it," Anne pointed out.

"People can make fun of a person for _anything_," Tillie spoke up. "And anyway, if the baby is ever made fun of for having red hair, at least it'll have someone who can sympathize with it!"

Anne looked at her. She could see that the girls were really trying to be helpful. So she said, "That's true."

Jane thought of something she wrongly assumed would be helpful: "It isn't _just_ the parents that a baby takes after! Sometimes babies look like their _other_ relatives! You know how much you like black hair, Anne? My _mother's_ hair is light brown, but _her_ brothers and sisters all have very dark hair, it's nearly black. And our grandfather on our mother's side had hair as dark as night! So maybe your baby will have really dark hair."

Anne was not comprehending how any of that would influence _her_ baby's hair- until at last her brain finally clicked and made the connection that Jane's grandparents hair color could be passed down to her baby, because all of Jane's relatives were also her baby's relatives.

And when she realized this, her heart sank.

She did not _mind_ her baby being related to _Jane_, really…Jane was a good person, kind, and brave, but she was sometimes surprised to remember that Jane had anything to do with her baby.

_Does this mean Jane and I are related now? _Anne wondered. ..._This is confusing._

And Jane's _grandparents_...

Her baby would have all these people related to it, stretching out for miles, and she did not know any of them. The thought was overwhelming to her.

Jane was talking, but Anne wasn't listening.

Thoughts were swimming in her head now. The baby being related to _herself_ sometimes gave Anne a jolt- it wasn't just a random creature- it was actually a part of _her_, related to her in a way that no one else ever had been. _That_ idea was almost unfathomable.

So to be hit with the truth that this little person growing inside her came complete with its own lineage and inherited traits that had _nothing_ to do with _her_. …It was scary for her to have to accept that.

_Every person alive has blood relatives somewhere, even if they never know who they are_, Anne reasoned. _Who knows who __**I'm **__related to? …It's all right for my baby to have all those relatives out there. It'll be __**my**__ influence that matters most, more than theirs, because they may give it traits, but __**I'll**__ be the one to influence its behavior. _

_Unless…what if inherited traits matter more than learned ones? What if this baby __**can't**__ be a good person no matter __**what**__ I do? No, no, that can't be. I can __**make**__ it be a good person. Blood relatives don't-_

Her train of thought crashed upon the words "blood relatives". The term made her think too much of the blood. _The blood that runs through my baby's veins is Billy's blood. Billy's blood, __mixed__ with __mine__. Our blood __forever combined in a whole new person… _

This thought was too much to bear_. _

Jane was not aware of Anne's mental struggle, and when Anne came back to the present and began listening again to what Jane was saying, she heard: "…most babies are bald, I think. Or…well, not bald exactly. But they just kind of have blonde peach fuzz."

Anne smiled faintly at the way "peach fuzz" sounded.

"All three of us were bald with peach fuzz to start with," Jane said, referring to her siblings. "You know, Anne, even if your baby has red hair, hair doesn't always stay the same all through a person's life! Prissy and Billy and I were all blonde when _we_ were little. _Real_ blonde. But as we grew up, it gradually turned to a light brown. And Prissy and I can't really be called blonde _at all_ anymore, can we? Billy's still blonde, but more in a honey-blonde sort of way; lots of times his hair just looks light brown like ours does. I think the sunshine has a lot to do with it, too- I've noticed hair lightens up in the summer…"

Jane suddenly realized her mistake and said, "I'm sorry. I forget sometimes that- that-"

She trailed off, lamely, feeling uncomfortable. Tillie was biting her lip, feeling awkward for even having listened to this.

Anne finally turned to look at her. She had no ill will toward Jane, and even though she felt unhappy, she also felt unhappy knowing that _Jane_ felt unhappy. So she said, "It's all right, Jane. This must feel mixed up to you, too!"

Jane reached out and comfortingly squeezed Anne to her side, silently thanking her for being understanding.

"I don't want the baby to look like Billy," she whispered softly. "I know I said I didn't want it to have red hair, but…now if it's got _blonde_ or even _brown_ hair, I…"

Jane seemed to understand now that the problem was it being on _her_ side of the family at all. So she said, "Anne, you were too little to remember your parents, weren't you?"

"I was three months old when they died," Anne confirmed.

"Do you have any photographs of them?" Jane asked.

Anne shook her head. "They were poor as church mice. I doubt they ever went to have a photograph made."

"Then you don't know what color hair _they_ had. Oh, sure, it's likely at least one was redheaded, but, you don't know- the other one could have had _any_ color hair. A honey blonde baby could be because one of _your_ parents had that color hair."

Anne turned to her and with a genuine smile, said, "That helps _tremendously, _Jane."

Jane was relieved.

Anne smiled kindly at her. "And if there's anything I think _might_ have come from…from your side of the family, I'll be happy if I can tell myself that it came from _you, _Jane." Then she took a big breath, feeling better. "Tell me all about school. I miss everything. Even geometry. Even Mr. Phillips."

"Didn't anyone tell you, Anne? We're getting a new teacher in the fall."


	42. Feelings

"I can't figure her out, dad."

John Blythe laughed. "I'll ask you what you mean, son, but there's really no need. You'll be saying that about women for the rest of your life. So what is it about Anne that's got you saying it now?"

"Every day is different. One day she can't bear to give the baby up- she needs to keep it...she calls it a poor little thing and says no one will take care of it as well as she will. Then the next day she calls it that wretched creature and says she doesn't want to lay eyes on it, and that the worst thing in the world would be to have to take care of it."

"Well, Gilbert, she's in a situation that's- I can't imagine..." John Blythe took a deep breath. "I warned you that being friends with her through a pregnancy would be difficult."

"It's not as if I'd stop," Gilbert said simply.

John smiled at him. "No, I know you wouldn't. Nor would I expect you to. And I think it's a good thing you're doing. She needs a friend right now. There are changes in mood that would throw any woman for a loop, but add to that her age and her situation with the baby's father- I'm surprised she's doing as well as she is."

"I get that, Dad, I know this is hard. But it isn't just that. She's that way about everything now. I never know what to try to do for her because one day it's right and the next day it's wrong. She can be angry with me over something and the very next day ask me to do it again. Or I'll think I've made her happy but the next day she's angered by it. It's confusing enough on a day to day basis, but she...she starts talking about the future, and I just..."

"Are you having doubts?" was John's gentle inquiry.

Gilbert was surprised.

"It's all right- if you are...I've supported this because I know a good thing when I see it. And I know she's changed something in you."

Gilbert smiled.

"...But if I weren't ill, son, I wouldn't be encouraging a relationship like this. A friendship, yes- but I'd say you ought not feel _committed _to each other, not act as if you've got a sure thing going. Don't assume this is _the one."_

"I know," Gilbert said. "But I'm not having doubts."

"All right, then."

Gilbert continued: "One day she says she wants us to get married. The next day she says she's never going to get married and tells me that she and I are just friends. Then another day she'll say that we _can _get married, but we won't be able to be-"

Gilbert cut off, suddenly. He'd thought he could talk to his dad about this, but now that he actually was, it didn't seem to want to come out.

He scolded himself for getting embarrassed. _You're practically a grown man, _he told himself. _Don't be blushing like a doe eyed child. Face your father like an adult._

His father took a breath and said, "Gilbert, I don't want in any way to dissuade you, but..."

Gilbert looked up at him, wondering where this was going.

His father looked serious. "This is a good time to realize the challenges you'll be facing."

"You said marriage is all about challenges...every marriage has challenges," Gilbert said.

His father hesitated. "Yes. That's true. But...in most marriages, the first time a bride and groom are intimate, it's...awkward, strange, sometimes even a little funny."

"Funny?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes...and a little scary too."

Gilbert nodded. He could see being nervous about doing something you'd never done before, especially when it involved sharing so much of yourself.

His father looked at him and said, "Your situation will be different from other marriages."

He didn't say anything else.

Gilbert finally said, "You mean...because Anne's already..."

"I mean because she's had a boy do something to her that was a cruel charade of what intimacy in marriage is. She might even think they're the same thing, that there's no difference between the two." His father went on, "And even if she knows there _ought _to be a difference, it doesn't mean it will be easy for her to...to allow you...no matter how much she loves you, she's going to be afraid. What should be a beautiful thing will instead be something that causes stress and upset."

Gilbert shook his head. "Then we won't do that," he said resolutely. "And I _told _her that. I told her we _won't_. It isn't as if married people _have_ to do that, right? So-"

"_Gilbert_-"

"Well, it's not worth upsetting her!" Gilbert said firmly. "I don't want to take any chance of making her feel unsafe. She should feel _safe_ with me. ...So we just won't do that."

"Son, that's, uh...that's very noble, but it's not very _realistic_."

"I don't see why not," Gilbert said stoutly. He already longed to be closer to Anne, but for her sake he wouldn't let it progress.

His dad finally said, "Even if you really believe you can have a life together of just...holding hands-"

"We _hug_," Gilbert interrupted, sounding almost defensive.

"Well, hugs, then," his dad continued, "Even if you think you can be happy that way, there's still the idea of children."

Gilbert really _did _think he wanted children someday. But to his father, he said, "Anne has one. If she keeps it, it'll be enough. We don't have to have our own."

But John could see plainly that the thought made Gilbert sad.

Gilbert pulled himself out of his thoughts and said, as if settling the matter, "If we want more children, we'll take in orphans. _Anne_ was an orphan. I never how bad things were for them. It'll do a lot of _good_ for us to adopt a whole house full of orphans."

His dad said, "That's a nice plan." But he gave Gilbert a resigned sort of smile, as if he was really just agreeing to let the matter rest.

* * *

Anne's feelings about her baby went back and forth every day- and sometimes every few hours.

It was easier to feel nice toward the baby when she wasn't reminded of how she got it.

And she'd even started to like it "nudging" at her, because she felt that it wanted to talk to her, and she liked talking to it as if it was her friend and could understand what she was saying.

But when her back hurt, she felt less welcoming.

She told Gilbert, as they were doing geometry, "When the baby is born, we're not going to get along. But since babies can't talk, at least we won't be yelling at each other."

Gilbert gave sort of a laugh. "Why do you think you won't get along?"

"The baby hates me," Anne explained.

"Anne! The baby doesn't hate you. It loves you. How could it not?"

"He does _too_ hate me," she announced. "In fact, he's trying to kill me."

"He?"

"Oh, I don't know what it is. I just said that. Anyway, it's trying to kill me."

"Really now? How is the baby trying to kill you?"

"By making my back hurt."

"It's still hurting?" Gilbert asked, concerned. "Have you told the doctor?"

Anne was annoyed. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because we want to help you. You should tell the doctor when something's wrong, Anne," Gilbert said, holding her hand.

"Well, I can't," Anne said.

"Why _not?" _Gilbert asked.

"Because...because when _you _told him my back hurt, he asked to feel it!" Anne said accusingly. "I'm not telling _anyone_ when _anything_ hurts, now!"

"I'm sure he doesn't really _have _to feel it," Gilbert tried to reassure her. "But why can't you let him? He's just trying to see what's wrong so he can help you."

Anne looked down. "I don't want him looking at me. Or touching me."

"You let _me _rub your back. You _wanted _me to," he reminded her, still holding her hand. "But you're going to have to let the doctor _work_, aren't you? _Please _tell Dr. Carter when something's wrong...you're worrying me."

Anne was grumpy. She didn't want to tell Gilbert no- not when he was just worried about her. But she didn't want to be told anymore to tell the doctor what ailed her.

And Gilbert did not want to push her any more, seeing how unhappy she looked.

"Do you want me to rub your back now?" he asked, hoping to make peace with her.

Anne nodded.

"Ugh, that feels good. I don't understand why my back hurts, anyway. I thought that didn't happen till you get a big giant belly. I know I'm sticking out a lot now...but I'm not huge like a pumpkin. Not _yet_, anyway."

She was tired of grumbling, but she grumbled some more:

"I don't like geometry. Maybe I won't do it anymore."

Gilbert shook his head. "You have to do it. If you don't learn it, you won't be able to tell me when I'm wrong."

Anne laughed at this.


	43. Gilbert is Turned Away

One night Anne turned round every which way in her mirror, as she'd taken to doing more and more frequently.

Previously, the extra flounce to her pinafore had helped, because it hid the bump she was getting- any gain on her part could just be attributed to the ruffles on the pinafore.

But tonight, standing in front of her mirror, she came to the upsetting conclusion that at _this_ point, the ruffled pinafore was actually beginning to make it worse. It was just accentuating her midsection, which was beginning to expand too far to be explained away by ruffles.

The next day when Marilla told Anne that Gilbert was here for her, she was met with surprise.

Instead of lighting up as usual, a distressed look came over Anne's face and she begged Marilla, "Tell him to go away!"

Marilla looked shocked.

"You don't mean that, do you?" Marilla was shocked; they'd been so close.

Nevertheless, she said to Gilbert at the door, "I'm afraid Anne can't have visitors today, would you mind coming tomorrow perhaps?"

After he went away disappointed, Marilla shut the door and went to where Anne was hiding in the kitchen. "Anne, what is it?"

Anne would not answer.

"Has he said something _hurtful_ to you?"

"No, no, I just want him to go away and leave me alone, Marilla! _Please!"_

"But I've told him to come back tomorrow, dear."

Anne gave an exasperated moan and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

The next day Anne thought to herself, _Now I'm being silly- besides Diana, Gilbert's my very best friend in the whole world. There's no reason not to see him._

But when it came time to face him the next day, Anne felt panicked at the prospect and pleaded with Marilla not to let him in.

It was a bewildered Marilla who met Gilbert at the door, saying, "I'm sorry, Gilbert- I don't know why, but she's refusing to see you. ...Did the two of you quarrel over something?"

"No," he answered, just as bewildered. "I can't think of anything at all."

Then he thought, "Miss Cuthbert, would it be all right if I wrote her a letter?"

"Yes _of course_. I'd ask you in, but…"

"I'll just sit out here and write it, it isn't any trouble," and he sat right down on the porch step and took out his notebook to begin a letter.

* * *

Marilla checked on him a moment later. He stood up quickly and gave it to her. "Thank you for allowing it," he said humbly. "And please feel free, of course, to read it before you give it to her, if you think you ought to?"

"I'm sure it's all right, Gilbert. I trust you and Anne completely."

Gilberts eyes softened. "Thank you, Miss Cuthbert."

And he turned to go.

* * *

_Dear Anne,_

_Since you won't see me, I thought I'd write you a letter. I hope that's all right with you. And I hope you'll answer me back. Are you angry with me over something? I've been racking my brain trying to think of where I've let you down._

_But no matter how I've erred, will you still accept school notes from me? If you will, I'll leave them with Miss Cuthbert and I won't ask to come in and see you, since you don't want that._

_With love- if you'll allow it-_

_Gilbert_

* * *

The next day, Marilla met Gilbert at the door with a note from Anne. Gilbert read it with a mixture of relief and confusion-

_Gilbert,_

_You haven't done anything wrong._

_-Anne_

_P.S. Thank you for the school notes_.

* * *

The next day Marilla found out why Anne didn't want Gilbert to see her.

"Why won't you let Gilbert come in?" Marilla asked. "Don't you want to be his friend anymore?"

"It's not that," Anne explained. "I just can't let him see me…not now that I'm…expanding!" She said miserably.

"Oh, Anne," Marilla laughed.

Anne stared at her, then said, horrified, "It's not _funny!"_

Marilla quickly realized what she'd done and changed her tone. "You're right, it isn't, and I'm sorry for you. But you must choose not to let embarrassment rule you- you've done nothing wrong and you haven't anything to be embarrassed of."

"That's easy for _you_ to say, _you're_ not the one who's going to blow up like a balloon!" Anne said, crushed.

"He's seen you already, hasn't he? It's not as if your size is something new."

"Yes, but it's _worse_ now! The baby is a lot _bigger_ than it was even last _week!_ It's growing faster and it's _awful!"_

"Do you think Gilbert would say something unkind to you about it?"

"No," Anne said quietly. "He wouldn't."

Then she sighed unhappily, shaking her head. "I don't want him to see me like this, Marilla."

"…All right. I won't push you."

"Thank you."

* * *

The next day, Gilbert was back again with notes from the school day, and Marilla told him that Anne still wouldn't see him. He was disappointed but not surprised.

Marilla thought a moment, then said, "If you'd leave another letter, I think she'd like that. She _does_ want to be your friend, Gilbert, and she isn't angry with you over anything."

She thought about whether she should reveal Anne's fears to him.

Finally she continued, "It seems she feels ready to go into a time of confinement. She's noticing herself changing more quickly. And she doesn't want any witnesses to it."

"_Ohhh,_" Gilbert breathed out, catching her meaning.

"Yes. I'm sorry you won't be able to see her, and I think she ought to get past that feeling, but I won't force her into embarrassment."

"Of course not," he said quickly.

_Anne,_

_I wish you'd let me come in and talk to you like we used to. I don't see why you won't._

_Miss Cuthbert told me you don't want me to see you while you're expecting, but that doesn't mean anything to me- so what if it shows more? It isn't as if I didn't know what was coming. Nothing's changed, you're still you, and I love you._

_But letters are nice, so if you really won't ever let me see you, I'll be glad for the letters._

_Your pal,_

_Gil_

* * *

_Gilbert,_

_I just can't. It's too awful._

_Anne_

* * *

Gilbert wisely did not mention it anymore. His next letter said,

_Dear Anne,_

_Today at school we got our math tests back. I'm including mine here so you can try it yourself. I got number 14 wrong, but I know you won't._

_Ruby told me today that she misses you being at school. Truthfully I think she's still disappointed her wedding plans for us have gone to waste. But she hasn't gone back to being stuck on me, so that's good. She said she especially misses you at lunchtime, and that nobody ever says anything as interesting as you. She wanted me to ask you if you'd written any stories lately?_

_Gil_

* * *

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I'm giving you something that I want you to give to Ruby- could you?_

_Love,_

_Anne_

* * *

_Dear Anne,_

_Ruby loved what you gave her. Seriously, she loved it. She read The Story of Princess Ruby out loud at lunchtime and I am happy to tell you that even Josie was impressed. Josie asked how you were doing. She asked if you were still keeping up with school work at home. I told her you were working hard at home to stay up to date. The girls all said they hoped you were finding geometry easier than they are. Tillie said she's ready to drop out, she hates it so much. Then she said, 'I bet Anne isn't having a bit of trouble with it". Are you, Anne? I know you don't want to see me, but if you're having trouble, I wish you'd let me come in and we could work on it together._

_Love,_

_Gil_

* * *

_Dear Gilbert,_

_Marilla gave me the math test, and guess what? I got number fourteen wrong too. I guess we think alike. Oh well, I've worked harder on it this week. It isn't as if I have anything else to do. Well, Marilla and I have been knitting and sewing a lot. My hands are tired with all we've done, but we don't have a lot of time left, I suppose, so we must get to it._

_I'm so glad Ruby liked the story. It makes me happy to know I'm not forgotten at school- and happier still to know the memories have been good ones, not bad._

_Love,_

_Anne_

* * *

When Marilla came in to say goodnight to Anne, the sight of Anne sitting in bed reading, with her quilt pulled up, gave her an idea. "You could sit in bed and have a visit. You could have the covers pulled up over your belly."

"That won't hide it!"

"No, but you won't feel so exposed."

"I wouldn't think _you'd_ suggest having a boy into my bedroom in bed with my nightgown on!" Anne said indignantly.

Marilla pursed her lips. "Normally, no, but this isn't a normal situation, and I feel we've strayed so far from normalcy in general, that I wouldn't mind, as Gilbert's your only link to school and to the outside world at the moment. And I know he cares a great deal for you. I trust him not to do anything improper, too, so that of course helps."

Anne huffed.

"You don't have to be in your nightgown, and you don't have to be in bed. Really, there's no reason for that. You could look the same way downstairs on the sofa, couldn't you? You could sit on the sofa and we'll cover you up with a quilt. Would that work?"

"…Maybe."


	44. Jerry is Unfriendly

Gilbert came every day to bring Anne school notes and a letter from himself, and sometimes letters from the girls. He usually left with letters as well, but he was not able to see Anne, and this made the days harder and her letters more precious. He wondered when she would ever let him back in.

Anne would no longer permit _anyone_ to see her- even going so far as to tell Matthew that if Diana in all her raven haired glory came to her, she would be turned away at the door. The Sunday School teacher was obliged to cease her visits as well, though she occasionally stopped by with prayer cards and little gift for Anne. Even trips to Emily's had come to a close.

The only person Anne could not avoid was Jerry. Dr. Carter, never having had a maternity patient so very young, was apt to ere on the side of caution, and said that at this point, Anne ought to rest as much as possible and stay off her feet most of the time- _except_, he said, to take a short, leisurely paced walk outdoors each morning to get a little movement in the sunshine and fresh air. The trouble is, no matter where she walked, she always had the possibility of running into Jerry as he did his work.

Matthew, at first, wanted to have Jerry work somewhere else so that Anne wouldn't have to be seen, but that did not make sense due to the areas of the farm that needed the most attention at present. And after thinking on it, he decided that maybe it was for the best- if Anne _had _to see Jerry, she'd have _someone _her own age to talk to, and Matthew knew that Jerry would say nothing to make Anne feel self conscious; perhaps if she could _not _avoid seeing Jerry, she would soon learn from him that she really did not need to be embarrassed over the way she looked.

One morning as Anne took her obligatory walk around outdoors, she stopped, stretched out her legs, twisting her ankles as if to try to get better circulation, and then sat down on an overturned log. Jerry, seeing this, came quickly to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Anne looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. She had thought Jerry was in the barn.

"I'm all right," she answered. "Why?"

"I should not get Miss Cuthbert?"

Anne shook her head. "No. I just sat down because my feet hurt. And my legs hurt. And my back hurts, too."

"I don't know what to do for that, but I'm glad you're not in trouble. I will go back to work now."

He started to turn away, but Anne called:

"Jerry, _wait-_"

Once Jerry came back, Anne did not know what to do with him. She didn't know why she had called him back.

Jerry was waiting, but Anne wasn't saying anything.

Finally he sat down beside her on the log. He said, "Mr. Cuthbert told me that if you ever ask me to stay and talk, I'm allowed to stop my work for you."

Anne smiled faintly, loving Matthew with all her heart.

When she still didn't say anything- only hugged her girth as if she thought she could hide it- he finally brought up a topic of conversation himself.

"That boy who comes over every day," Jerry broached. "Why does he keep coming? Miss Cuthbert does not let him in."

"She doesn't let him in because I don't want to see him," Anne said with an unhappy little huff. "I don't want _him _to see _me_, I mean."

And then she crossed her arms, because she was unhappy that _Jerry _could see her anytime as he worked on their land.

" ...Let's talk about something else," she said quickly.

But Jerry had erroneously assumed that Anne was angry with this unnamed boy.

He backed off from that subject.

"You know, when my aunt was going to have a baby, she wore her bedroom slippers all the time. She said her feet felt too tight in her boots."

"That's a good idea," Anne said with a sigh. She stood up and stretched. "I'm going back into the house now. I think I'll do what she did. Thanks, Jerry."

When Anne went back into the house, she took her boots off and pushed them under her bed, not intending to put them on again unless she had to, and from then on she stayed in her houseshoes, even when she went outside.

* * *

A few days later Jerry was working close by the house when Gilbert came over.

Mr. Cuthbert was out in the fields, and Miss Cuthbert had gone into town. Anne was still in the house, and Jerry wondered if she would let the boy in, but the door never opened, and finally the boy turned away.

As the boy walked past him by the chicken coop, he said a polite hello, but Jerry did not answer him.

Then the boy stopped and asked him, "By any chance, do you know when Miss Cuthbert might be back?"

Jerry glowered at him and said something in French.

"I'm sorry- I don't understand…?" Gilbert said a bit bewildered.

Gilbert did not need to know French to know that whatever Jerry had said, it was uncomplimentary to him.

Now Jerry spoke English: "Why don't you leave her alone?"

Gilbert was so caught off guard he laughed a little bit. "What?"

"She wants to you to stay away. Why do you keep making trouble for her?"

Gilbert stared at him in surprise. He wasn't sure what to say, but Jerry didn't wait for him to respond, sauntering off toward the barn.

* * *

Anne finally allowed Gilbert in- but only if she could attempt to conceal her form.

Marilla got her settled on the sofa- her legs up on the sofa, too, since she was finding them to ache more and more these days and was told by Dr. Carter to keep them elevated. Marilla put her quilt on her and promised her that her belly was _not _sticking out horribly. But Anne sat with a pillow over her lap and crossed her arms upon it.

Marilla left them alone.

Gilbert had enough sense not to mention anything about her condition.

But Anne had plenty to say about it, and loudly: "I'm not keeping _this_...this _Thing."_

"_Anne-_" Marilla called from the other room.

"Baby!" Anne yelled back to her.

Then, to Gilbert, she whispered, "Well, I'm not. _The Thing_ will have to go."

Then Anne spent several minutes complaining about the sewing Marilla was forcing her to do for _The Thing._

Gilbert held her hand, grateful to be near enough to touch her, no matter how grouchy she was.

* * *

The next day Anne decided to let him in again.

She unlatched the front door, but told Gilbert to stay outside until she was safely back on the sofa- the blanket pulled up over her, in an attempt to conceal the dreadful truth from Gilbert, even though it could not really be concealed.

But Gilbert was compliant, waiting on the porch until Anne yelled back to him that she was ready now.

Gilbert found that Anne was working diligently- and seemingly happily- on sewing a strip of robin's egg blue cloth into a ruffle.

"Wouldn't that be faster on the machine?" he asked, glancing over at Marilla's Singer.

Anne said, "She doesn't let me use it unless she's right here. I suppose she thinks I'll accidentally break something. Like the bobbin. Or my finger. Anyway, I don't know how to make ruffles like this on a machine." She held up the fabric, looking proud of her efforts. "I didn't want to wait for her to come back and teach me on the machine."

"That eager, eh?" Gilbert replied with amusement. Yesterday Anne had acted put upon for having to sew baby clothes, and today she seemed pleased as punch about it. It made him wonder if she'd settled on some sort of conclusion about keeping the baby.

"Have you changed your mind about what you want to do?" Gilbert asked, looking at the frilly little dress Anne was working so hard on.

"To do? About what?" she asked absently, holding up her work and looking at it critically. He didn't know what she was checking for, but whatever it was, she seemed to approve, and set to work on it again.

"About the baby. Whether you're going to keep it, or…"

"Oh. Marilla says I shouldn't worry about that yet."

Gilbert nodded slowly. "Yeah. I just thought maybe you'd decided, since…yesterday you didn't want to work on clothes and today you seem happy to do it."

Anne smiled. "I _am _happy to do it. I didn't want to sew a million dresses. But Marilla pointed out yesterday that the more clothes the baby has, the less loads of laundry there'll be."

Oh.

"And she's right. If it only has a handful of things, I'll be washing them constantly. If it's got a nice big wardrobe, it'll go a long time before I have to do it's laundry."

Then she looked over at Gilbert. "What's wrong? You look disappointed."

"No, no. I'm not."

Anne put the sewing aside. "I'm glad you're here, Gilbert. Do you want to play a game or something? I'd offer to get us something to eat, but…"

Anne bit her lip. Gilbert knew she was not going to get up willingly, because she preferred to believe that as long as she stayed on the couch with her blanket pulled up over her, she could keep that awful baby out of sight.

"That's all right," Gilbert said with a smile. "Do _you_ want something? I'll go get it for you."

She shook her head. "No. I'm not hungry...for once."

Gilbert looked down at the sewing again. "So do you think you might be keeping her, then? Or him?"

Anne didn't answer. "I don't know. I think it'll be hard to find someone willing to take it, but Marilla said if we found some nice married couple who really wanted a baby and couldn't have one, that would be the ideal situation."

"Sounds like it," Gilbert agreed, nodding.

"But she _still_ says I shouldn't make a decision yet because I won't know how I really feel until it happens."

"That's kind of what I thought. ...It would be hard to know beforehand."

Anne nodded.

"You've been working so hard on all the clothes."

"It'll need clothes whether I keep it or not, Gilbert."

* * *

When Gilbert was leaving- with Anne still on the sofa, as she would not get up and follow him out- Marilla was coming in with Jerry by her side. He had seen Miss Cuthbert pull in with the buggy and had offered to stop and help her carry a box she'd gotten in town.

"Oh, Gilbert, are you on your way out?" she asked pleasantly.

"Yes," he said. "Good afternoon, Miss Cuthbert. ...Would you like me to get the other things from the buggy for you?"

"Thank you, no- I think Jerry can manage the rest."

"Yes, _I'll_ help you," Jerry said, in a tone that was quite unlike him and Marilla turned to him in surprise.

She saw the distrustful expression Jerry had when he looked at Gilbert.

"Have you two met?" Marilla asked, curious.

The boys stared at each other.

"No," Jerry said.

"No," Gilbert repeated. He did not even know the boy's name, so he wasn't being dishonest in saying that they hadn't actually met.

"Jerry, this is Gilbert Blythe. He's Anne's...friend," Marilla said, a bit briskly. "Gilbert, this is Jerry. He's been helping us on the farm."

The two nodded at each other, polite but not at all friendly.

Marilla didn't know what the problem was, and truthfully, Gilbert didn't quite know either.


	45. Jerry and Gilbert

This is short, sorry, but I'll post another chapter later.

* * *

Marilla mentioned Jerry's attitude to Matthew that evening. "I've never heard him speak in such a tone. He sounded angry- no, he sounded disgusted. And I couldn't figure out why. Oh- I don't mean to _me_, Matthew. To _Gilbert_. And as far as I know, the two had never even met."

Matthew didn't say anything, but he thought he had a pretty good idea of what the problem might be.

"I'll see what I can get out of him," Matthew told her.

* * *

The next morning Matthew met Jerry in the barn for milking. Matthew did not usually make conversation, so Jerry was surprised when Matthew suddenly said, "I'm glad you didn't mind taking over the chores Anne used to do- collecting the eggs and such."

"I'm glad to help," Jerry said with a shrug.

Matthew was quiet a moment. Then he spoke up again: "Seems Anne finally got over her feelings and let Gilbert back in."

Jerry didn't say anything, looking away from Matthew, turning his attention back to his milk pail.

"We're both glad, Marilla and me. He's been good to her."

Jerry said- under his breath, more to himself than to Matthew- "I'm surprised you're all right with him."

"Well now," he said slowly, "He's been by her side all this time, and after what that _other _boy did to her…"

Matthew could see the surprise on Jerry's face, but he ignored it, and went on: "We're just glad that boy moved away so Anne won't have to see him anymore. If I had my way he'd be in _prison_, attacking her like that."

Jerry couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to.

Matthew shook his head. "Our Anne wasn't doing very well, after what was inflicted upon her, but with such a good friend like Gilbert by her side, she's gotten through it. Yes, we're mighty glad for him."

Then Matthew, who had spoken more this morning than he was used to, stopped talking and focused on his task.

Jerry was staring at him, thinking, and feeling his conscience weigh on him.

* * *

Later, when Matthew went in for lunch, he told Marilla, "I got Jerry sorted out. Seems he was angry with the wrong person."

* * *

When Jerry saw Gilbert walking to Green Gables that afternoon, he stopped and approached him.

"Gilbert," he said.

Gilbert turned back to him. "Jerry," he answered lightly, wondering what was to come.

"Uh- I am sorry I was rude to you," Jerry said. "I jumped to conclusions. I blamed _you _for- for Anne- I thought you had made problems for her. I am sorry."

_Oh_, Gilbert thought- it all made sense now.

He held out his hand to Jerry.

Surprised, Jerry reached out and took it, and the two boys shook hands. Jerry was relieved. "You are not angry?"

Gilbert explained, "Everyone put a lot of blame on Anne for expecting a baby- girls always seem to get judged so harshly for these things, but nobody seems to mind much what a boy does- as if he doesn't bear any responsibility for a baby coming." Then he smiled. "You know, Jerry, I think you're the first person in this town to put some of the blame on the boy."

"No," Jerry said, shaking his head. "I did not put some of the blame on you; I put _all _of the blame on you."

Gilbert laughed, and then Jerry did too.

"But I don't anymore. Thanks for not being mad," Jerry said.

"Thank you, too," Gilbert told him.

"What for?" Jerry asked, looking confused.

"For being her friend," Gilbert said with a smile.


	46. Jane

School was out for the summer, and Anne was glad, because it meant that she would no longer have to feel as though she were missing out on everything.

She remembered, now, her unrealistic thought that she might be able to reach the end of the school year without anyone knowing about her condition:

"_But, Marilla- I don't want to stop going- we don't have that much longer before school is out, really!" she had begged._

_Marilla, direct, but with a much gentler voice than usual, told her, "Anne...you won't be able to make it to the end of the year."_

Looking at herself now, she thought Marilla had been right. Her condition had been visible for a long time, but in recent weeks, it had become embarrassing, and she shook her head at her memory of thinking she might still have been going to school at this point in time.

That too-big dress had been hanging on her door for weeks, and could have been put on at any time in recent days, but Anne was staunchly against it, resolving to keep her regular dress on even if it meant bursting at the seams.

But this morning, Anne finally surrendered, putting on the larger dress and saying goodbye to her old one.

"You won't have to wear it for very long," Marilla said, comfortingly, when she saw Anne come downstairs in the larger dress, looking defeated. "You should only have ten weeks left, now, dear. It'll be over soon."

* * *

Jane showed up unannounced in the evening.

Anne felt obligated to let her in when Marilla told her that Jane was standing on the front porch looking lonely and sorrowful, and that she'd come despite her parent's disapproval, risking getting in trouble if she was found out.

So Anne had given in, with the understanding that she not be expected to get up off the sofa from where she was hiding with her blanket over her lap.

Once Jane was in, though, Anne was glad she came.

Marilla was sitting alone in the kitchen, at the table with a lamp by her side, going through her recipe box for new ideas. Even when Anne wasn't happy about having a baby, she never let Marilla forget that Tuesdays were her baby's 'birthdays'- why, Marilla never knew- but they _must_ have a dessert for it, and Marilla was getting tired of the same old standard cakes. As she sat searching for recipes, she felt her heart become lighter each time she heard the sound of the two girls giggling in the parlor.

Jane's visit even seemed to prompt in Anne a change of heart about the baby. Lately she had been grouchy at _The Thing_\- and even grouchier when Marilla scolded her for referring to the baby as _The Thing_\- and she was very outspoken about not keeping it, as she always was when her body hurt.

But today she wasn't in any pain at all, for once, so she was in a better mood. And with a friend to talk to, her spirits were lifted. When Jane noticed the catalogs on the coffee table and begged, _"Oh, let's look at these- everything must be so cute!_", Anne couldn't help allowing her friend's enthusiasm to rub off on her just a _little_. Jane had fun oohing and aahing over all the baby things, and before long she had Anne building an imaginary nursery in her mind.

They sounded like two young girls _pretending_, just as they should have been.

* * *

When Jane finally- reluctantly- went home, she decided she would say she'd been at Tillie's again.

But no one in her house asked her where she'd been.

She wished someone would invite her to stay overnight, because she was finding her own home to be a less than welcoming environment.

Worse, Billy was visiting for a few days, and he became his parent's golden child while there, with Jane cast off to the side.

Jane detested the way her parents acted as though Billy could do no wrong- as if he had been the victim of Anne, rather than the other way around.

It made Jane have a strong desire to bring him uncomfortably close to the consequences of his actions.

"I felt your baby kick today," she announced to Billy as they sat reading in the evening. Everyone else had gone up to bed, and they were alone in the parlor.

When Billy did not react to this, Jane said- louder this time- "Did you hear me? About your baby?"

"I don't have a baby," he finally mumbled.

"Yes, you do," Jane said, brushing that off. "And it kicks a _lot_. Poor Anne- your baby kicking away at her- and she can't do a thing to get away from it!"

Billy's face got red. He hunched over his comic book, hiding it.

Jane said, "I wonder if it's a boy or a girl. I bet it's a boy, with all that kicking. Maybe it'll be an athlete! ...Do you think you're having a boy or a girl, Billy?"

Billy's face stayed in his comic book, as he tried very hard to shut Jane out.

Jane was happy to see Billy feeling uneasy. All her talk to Anne about the baby having _nothing _to do with Billy was meant solely for Anne's ears- to comfort Anne and make her feel better about the whole thing. ...But when it came to talking to _Billy_, she considered it her moral duty to pin that baby on him every chance she got. Because Jane and Billy's parents kept saying over and over that it _wasn't _Billy's problem- their family had _nothing_ to do with it, and that Billy had no responsibility to her whatsoever, Jane felt it _her _responsibility to remind her brother that he was, in fact, the cause of the entire situation.

"I wonder if it'll look like _you_," Jane thought aloud. "Maybe it'll be sort of a mix of the two of you _together_. It could have your face but have red hair like Anne. Hmm, it'll be interesting to see whether it takes after it's mother or it's _father_."

Billy was really angry now. His hand gripped his comic book so hard his knuckles were white, and his mouth was set in a firm line.

Jane was enjoying this. "Have you thought about what _you _might have to do?"

"What?" Billy asked, finally looking up at his sister.

"About how much the Cuthberts will expect you to _do_," Jane clarified.

Billy finally spoke. "They can't make me do anything."

"Well," Jane said, "It isn't fair that Anne has to do _everything,_ is it? Maybe they'll ask Mother and Father to have you come live with us again, so that you'll be close by. Then they can bring your baby over here and make _you _take care of it. ...That would be more _fair_, wouldn't it?"

Billy had had enough. He threw his comic book on the floor and stomped away. Jane could hear him stomping all the way upstairs to his room, and then she heard a door slam.

She waited a moment to hear if anyone had woken up because of the door slamming; Billy had not stopped to consider the others in the household before he slammed his door. But no one had woken up, it seemed. Jane picked up the Elsie book that Anne had loaned her, and went back to reading.

She knew her brother would never be made to take any responsibility for anything. Her parents would not make him, and the Cuthberts certainly didn't want Anne to have to interact with him in any way.

But Jane enjoyed making her brother worry about it.


	47. Making Decisions for the Coming Weeks

On Tuesday, Anne had devil's food cake for her baby's weekly 'birthday', and as Dr. Carter happened to be there, she graciously- _after Marilla's stern expression_\- offered Dr. Carter a piece, even though it meant one less piece for herself. Prior to being pregnant, Anne had never been gluttonous or selfish, but now she mourned the loss of that piece of cake, and was glad when Dr. Carter requested she cut his piece to be small.

Anne was tired of the doctor coming and she did not want him poking at her. She never let him touch her stomach at all. But she had at least started to allow him to put the stethoscope on her. He offered to let her hear her baby's heartbeat through his stethoscope, thinking she would find it interesting, but Anne hesitated and finally said no, sounding almost afraid to. "Maybe next time," he said, putting his stethoscope away. "But I'm glad you're letting _me _listen, now, Anne. It's very helpful. And everything sounds perfectly fine."

"That's a relief," Marilla said, always finding herself nervous when the doctor came to check on Anne. "So we have about ten weeks, correct?"

Dr. Carter nodded. "And now that we're coming so close, I think it's time for us to make some decisions," he began. "About the delivery."

Anne looked up, startled. '_Only ten weeks left'_ meant, to her, simply that the dreadful pregnancy was soon to be _over _with. ...It had somehow escaped her attention that the end of those ten weeks also meant _delivery_.

"With Anne being so young, there are greater odds she could have this little one sooner than we expect. Now, that's not necessarily anything to be concerned over," Dr. Carter assured her. "Many women deliver early."

Marilla nodded, her face lined with concern.

"But," Dr. Carter went on. "Due to the added risks, I think it would be unwise for us to consider a home birth."

"You do?" Marilla asked. "I have to admit I've been very worried. I have full faith in your capabilities, doctor, but I would feel safer if we could take her to a hospital- _just in case_."

"That's exactly what I was going to propose. I think we would _all _feel better if we planned for a hospital visit. Now, I've spoken to a very fine doctor of obstetrics at a hospital in New Brunswick. It's certainly not the nearest hospital, and it would require a train trip, but I think we ought to be more concerned with the _best _hospital than the _nearest _hospital."

"What do you mean, a hospital_?_" Anne interrupted, her eyes wide with fear. "I don't want to go _anywhere! _I want to stay right _here!"_

"Anne," Marilla said, "Calm down."

"I can't calm down!" Anne exclaimed. "You- you want to send me away?!"

"No," Marilla said calmly. "We would go _together_. And-"

"But I don't _want _to!" Anne said, near tears.

Dr. Carter spoke up, in a calming tone. "We all want the same thing, don't we? For you to have the safest, most-"

"No!" Anne said. "What_ I_ want is to stay here! People have babies at _home_. That's what they _do_. Why are you making me_ leave?"_ She started to cry.

"Anne, stop that and listen to us. You aren't listening to a _thing_. Now, Dr. Carter feels you would be safer in a _hospital_, and I _agree_. He's making good recommendations for us, both in what hospital to go to and which physician to see. He's _just_ said that he already talked to them about you, and-"

"You're going to tell everyone in the world every humiliating thing about me, and then you're going to send me _away_," Anne cried. Once she started, she couldn't stop. She cried and cried, and her tears rolled down onto her plate.

Marilla just stared at her, helpless. She did not know what to do because Anne was beyond even comforting.

Matthew heard her commotion and came in, poking his head into the room hesitantly at first, unsure if he ought to come in while the doctor was there. But the moment Anne saw Matthew, she got up and went to him.

He held her to him and looked at Marilla and Dr. Carter with a question on his face.

"She is upset because we want her to have the baby in a hospital," his sister told him, feeling exasperated that Anne would not calm herself and listen to reason.

Matthew sat down at the table. "Anne," he said quietly, just to her.

Anne still cried. Matthew stroked her cheek and said again, "Anne?"

She just sobbed. Matthew finally took her and led her away into the parlor.

Dr. Carter looked repentant. "Poor child, I didn't mean for it to upset her."

Marilla sighed. "She's always unpredictable, but ever since all of this, it's been worse. You had no way of knowing how upset she'd be, and neither did I. I thought she'd be relieved to go to a hospital! Well...Matthew will get her sorted out. I try, but he's always able to work some sort of magic in her that I can't quite grasp! ...I suppose you and I can consider her appointment to be over with- we won't get her back in here, I'm sure."

But then she had a new thought, "Doctor, how are we to take her to the hospital? I just thought. We don't know when she'll have it, exactly, and once labor begins, it'll be too late to put her on a train, won't it? It doesn't sound safe at all."

"I already checked into that. There's a boarding house just across the street from the hospital. I was going to suggest taking the train trip two or even three weeks early- just in case the baby comes sooner than expected- and lodging there. That way you'll be just across the street from the hospital when labor begins."

Marilla nodded slowly. Two or three weeks of rent in a boarding house...well, that would have to be figured out later. Only Anne's safety mattered right now. Money could be no object.

"Miss Cuthbert," Dr. Carter asked pleasantly, "Would you walk me out?"

"Of course," Marilla responded.

"I hope you don't think it's unwise of me to allow her such rich foods," Marilla said, speaking of Anne's weekly cake, as they walked off the front porch and headed toward the doctor's buggy. "But it's only on Tuesdays, really- the rest of the week I make sure she eats sensibly."

Dr. Carter was amused. "What's different about Tuesdays?" he couldn't help wanting to know.

Marilla sighed. "She says that is when her baby's _birthdays _are. ...No, I know it doesn't make a bit of sense for someone who hasn't been _born _to have _birth_days, but that's what she says."

Then Marilla smiled. "I have no interest in arguing with her because I've decided it's a positive sign that she wants to celebrate each new week of the baby's development! ...Why she came to the conclusion that the baby ages specifically on _Tuesdays_, I don't know, but-"

Marilla stopped talking.

"Miss Cuthbert?" Dr. Carter asked.

Marilla's hand was at her mouth, "Oh, my," she said, shaking her head. "I never- I never connected it."

Dr. Carter was looking at her questioningly.

"Anne was attacked on a Tuesday," she murmured.

Neither said anything for a moment.

Marilla felt terrible. "She wasn't just being silly, then...when she said her baby turns another week older every Tuesday…she was literally counting the weeks from it's...from it...oh, my."

Dr. Carter sighed. "It burdens me that she has to remember that. ...Uh, Miss Cuthbert, the reason I asked you to walk me out," he turned to her, serious, "Is that I wanted to discuss something with you, without Anne overhearing."

Marilla nodded, turning her attention away from the emotional news that had just hit her, and focusing on the business at hand.

"If Anne were...a normal patient, I would discuss this with her myself. But with her tender age and her embarrassment, I thought I might discuss this with _you_, and then let _you- _as a _mother- _be the one to speak with her."

"Of course," Marilla nodded, ready to hear whatever it was.

Once at his buggy, the doctor picked up a small bundle and opened it. There was a medical book and a magazine. But he did not open them.

He said to Marilla, "I've been thinking about how Anne will care for her baby, and what help she will need."

Marilla had an answer for this. "I plan to do everything with her. I'm going to move her into my room- just for the beginning- and we'll keep the baby with us, so that I can get up with her through the night. I thought that would be for the best during those first few months when routines are so unsettled."

"That's all good, Miss Cuthbert, but I was considering help in nursing the infant."

"Well," Marilla said with embarrassment, "I'm afraid I can't be of any help there, but I thought I'd ask my friend Rachel if she would mind explaining to Anne how things are meant to be!"

Dr. Carter smiled but then said, "That isn't quite what I meant when I said help in nursing. The thing is, nursing isn't always a success- why, I can't explain- but some women don't seem to be able to...now, I've never had a maternity patient so very _young_, and I'm concerned that her nursing may not be _enough_ sustenance for the infant."

Marilla had not thought of that. "If she can't produce enough milk to sustain it, how will we _know?"_

Dr. Carter went on, sounding more optimistic, "You know, formula supplements are quite safe and proven beneficial. ...It might be best for her to avoid nursing altogether."

Marilla was concerned. "But is it natural _not_ to? And how can she avoid it- the milk will still be there, won't it?"

"If she doesn't nurse, milk production will stop on its own. There will be some discomfort at first, but it will go away after a brief time."

Marilla still didn't say anything.

Dr. Carter said persuasively, "I _really _wouldn't push her to try the good old-fashioned way if I were you, unless it feels natural to her."

Marilla was still thinking. She wasn't sure it sounded healthy to go against nature.

...And she wasn't sure _why_, but she was getting the strangest feeling that Dr. Carter was pressing the issue for other motives.

Dr. Carter saw her face and began- slowly, feeling the need to tread carefully here- "Miss Cuthbert, if I may be frank with you, that is not the _only _reason I would recommend her using a formula for feeding. …There have been a few studies I've read that describe things that can happen that may significantly alter the quality of the milk."

Marilla asked, "What have you read?"

Dr. Carter decided to show her. He opened the book, found the right page, and showed it to her. "...This is just _one_ of them, I might add."

Marilla read the paragraph out loud: "_According to the reputable Dr. George H. Napheys, nervous agitation may so alter the quality of the milk as to make it poisonous. A fretful temper, fits of anger, grief, anxiety of mind, fear, and sudden terror, not only lessen the quantity of the milk, but render it thin and unhealthful, inducing disturbances of the child's bowels, diarrhea, griping, and fever. Intense mental emotion may even so alter the milk as to cause the death of the child_."

Marilla did not say anything and only stared down at the book in her hands.

"…I don't mean for you to take that as a criticism of your child's temperament, but…if she is naturally disposed to going into passions about things-"

"I'm not offended by it," Marilla said with a sigh. "I know it to be true."

"I don't want her to exacerbate her already fragile state." After a moment he continued, "The initial attack was a shock to the system of course…and then to conceive a child prematurely, and to go through childbirth, which is an exhausting ordeal in and of itself… Anne was _already _prone to outbursts and wildly varying moods _before_ all of this began. I fear going through it would be too much on her nervous system."

"And the milk the baby would receive through her will reflect all of that," Marilla stated, understanding.

Dr. Carter was glad she did not become offended by this.

And then Marilla voiced a secret thought she'd had: "It's just as well, I suppose. Honestly, I've been worried about how it might make her feel, being made to nurse...involving such a private area, it might just make her feel as if her own body is being intruded upon _again_."

Dr. Carter nodded. "I hope not, but it wouldn't surprise me."

"I'm relieved to know there's something else she can do, then. Do you have a recommendation for what kind of supplement to use?"

"Mellins makes a powdered formula for infants. It was developed in England, but it was manufactured in Boston. It's been quite successful for several years now. …I think Anne would do well to rely on that. It's said to be the perfect substitute for the natural milk of the mother. It comes in ten ounce packets. You have to mix it yourself."

"And then what?" Marilla asked. "How will she feed it?"

"There are two options. One is more traditional- you may have heard of pap boats? A ceramic device, looking a little like a gravy boat? But if you'll allow me to make a recommendation, there is a _newer_ method that I believe has merits over the old one: Clear glass bottles with rubber tips. They're said to be more sanitary; they're easier to sterilize. Because Mellins' is a baby food distributor, the glass bottles they sell are made to be the size needed for an infant."

"All right," Marilla said. "Thank you." She felt a little overwhelmed. "Where do we obtain these things?"

Dr. Carter said, "I'm sure you've come across Mellins before; they're often advertised in ladies' magazines. But I can go ahead and make the initial order for you. Once it's delivered then you'll simply fill in the order forms they'll send you. ...I believe it's about fifty or sixty-five cents a packet."

"My, that is a lot, isn't it," Marilla murmured. "A price like that, and multiplied by however many times the little one must be fed each day…" She shook her head. "Well, if it comes to it, we'll dip in to her fund. The Andrews left money for her, you know. To help with the expense of raising the child."

Dr. Carter nodded. "I'm glad. They _should_ have. It isn't right for you to shoulder the cost alone."

Marilla nodded and then took a deep breath. "They left her quite a _lot_, actually. We were rather surprised by it. We didn't think they'd be willing to do so much. …I hated to accept anything from them, but I suppose I am relieved to know her future is taken care of no matter what happens to us. Well, thank you Dr. Carter, I won't keep you. Say hello to Mrs. Carter for us."

Dr. Carter smiled and began to say goodbye when Marilla remembered: "Oh, I was going to wrap a piece of cake for you to take to Mrs. Carter."

Dr. Carter smiled. "We better not. Anne will be disappointed if another piece is missing."

Marilla couldn't help laughing at this. "Perhaps you're right. I shouldn't deprive her. She'll have a hard time waiting seven whole days for the next cake."


	48. Trying to Find the Bright Side

When Marilla came back into the house, she found Matthew alone in the parlor.

"I'm shocked by her, really," Marilla remarked, shaking her head. "I thought she'd feel _relieved _to go to a hospital. It'll give her less to worry about!"

Matthew said, "That's why she doesn't want to go."

Marilla looked up at him, surprised. "She never makes a lick of sense, that child!"

Matthew explained what he had learned from his talk with Anne: "She's afraid, and _we _tell her there's nothing to be afraid of and she'll be just fine- but _then _we tell her she has to go away to a hospital. She feels we've lied to her about the risks."

Marilla sighed, helpless. "I see. If there wasn't any risk, no one would have _thought _of a hospital. So all we did was confirm her fears!"

Matthew nodded.

"What are we to do, Matthew, there _is _danger." She shook her head. "Well, where is she now?"

Matthew gestured toward the stairs. "I took her upstairs after we talked about it. She wore herself out with all her crying. Gilbert's up there with her."

Marilla was caught off guard at that last part. "When did he get here? I didn't see him come in."

"He was out in the barn talking to Jerry. He came in the side door."

"And you sent him up to Anne's _bedroom?_ Matthew, we've _got _to stop allowing that!"

Matthew gave her a look. "What do you think'll _happen_, Marilla?"

Marilla just stared at him. Then her shoulders sagged. Matthew was right: Anne really didn't have anything to lose by having a boy in her room.

There were two reasons Marilla thought a boy entering a girl's room should not be allowed: the possibility of becoming unchaste, and safeguarding one's reputation for the future.

_But Anne's chastity isn't really a factor, now, is it- s__he's already pregnant, _Marilla realized. _And as for safeguarding one's reputation, she won't be considered a girl who can attract courtship prospects...though it's no fault of her own, Anne is out of the running._

* * *

Gilbert was sitting on the edge of Anne's bed.

Anne was lying on her side, curled up in a ball- as much as she was able, considering the obstacle that was her belly.

When she'd heard him coming in, she'd pulled her quilt quickly over her, in an attempt to hide the baby as much as possible.

Her tears were drying.

She had not told Gilbert what was wrong, in fact she had not spoken to him at all.

He'd come in with a gentle whisper of "Hi, Anne," and sat down softly by her side.

After several minutes, Anne responded. "Hi," she whispered.

Gilbert reached out for her hand, and Anne took it.

"They're making me go to a hospital," she told him.

Gilbert nodded. "Good."

"No, it's not good!" Anne said, finally sitting up. "I don't want to!"

"Why not?" Gilbert asked. "It'll be better that way."

After all the disturbing things he'd read in that medical volume, he was relieved to know she'd be in a hospital instead of at home.

"It's _not_ better that way! I don't _want_ to!" Anne exclaimed. "People have babies at _home!"_

"Not everyone does," Gilbert said calmly, moving her hair out of her eyes. "I bet there are lots of women who have babies in hospitals."

"Why, Gilbert?" Anne demanded.

"Probably just to be safer, in case there are risks," he answered.

Anne's eyes filled with tears again. "Exactly! Because there are _risks!"_ She started to cry again.

Gilbert hugged her. "Just because there are some risks doesn't mean anything is going to happen."

Anne nodded, leaning on his shoulder.

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he continued.

She didn't answer, and he couldn't see her face from where she was resting against him.

Then Gilbert thought of something. He pulled away so he could look at her. "You aren't going to the hospital for _you_. You're going for Mr. and Miss Cuthbert."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled at her. "This is the first time you've really had _parents_, isn't it? So you don't understand how it is, growing up with parents. They're terrible, and ridiculous. They worry about all _kinds _of things and for _no reason _at all, and then they make you do things just because _they're _worried. Things like...like..."

"Like making _me _put on a sweater when _she _feels cold," Anne put in, actually letting out a little laugh. She wrapped her arms around herself and told him, "She used to do that in the winter- she'd suddenly shiver and say, '_my, it's cold in here. Anne, go put on your sweater._' ...And _I _wasn't a bit cold!"

Gilbert smiled. "And it never ends- even when you're grown up they'll _still _worry over you all the time. That's just how parents _are_. So the best thing you can do is just humor them. Go along with what they want, because _you _want _them _to feel better." Gilbert touched her cheek. "Can you do that? For _them?"_

Anne whispered, "I guess so."

But then she leaned into him again. Resting on his shoulder, she said unhappily, "I don't want to go away and have some strange doctor _looking _at me!"

"Maybe Dr. Carter could come to the hospital with you. Then it wouldn't have to be a stranger."

"But it'll be far away and we don't know when I'll have to _go_. Anyway, he needs to stay here with your father. If he goes away with me, and your father gets worse…"

Gilbert didn't know what to say to that. If Dr. Carter wasn't in town, a doctor from elsewhere could be sought in an emergency, but what if he came too late, or couldn't come at all?

"Besides, I don't want _Dr. Carter _looking at me _either!" _Anne said miserably. "I don't want _anyone _to!"

Gilbert felt bad for her. "You know, if you really think it'll be embarrassing, then there's something good about it being a doctor you don't know, who lives far away in a different city."

"What's that?"

"Once it's all over with, you'll come home and you'll never see him again."

Anne breathed. "That's true."


	49. On the Precipice of Change

The next three weeks passed uneventfully. Anne finished two more dresses, with results Marilla was proud of her for, and Marilla finished knitting the blanket she'd been working on.

Anne's baby had three more "birthdays": chocolate layer cake when the baby turned thirty-one weeks old, peach cobbler when the baby turned thirty-two weeks, and angel's food when the baby turned thirty-three weeks old.

The bed Anne had chosen came in the mail, and Matthew drove into town to get the box from the post office where it was being held. But Anne did not want to look at the bed, because it made everything all too real for her.

Jane visited and brought Anne a stuffed rabbit that had been given to her when she was a baby.

After those three weeks had passed, something curious happened. Gilbert stopped visiting.

"I'm surprised Gilbert hasn't come over. He didn't come yesterday, either," Anne said, frowning.

"He probably needed to get to work he'd been neglecting. He's here so much of the time, Anne," Marilla told her.

On the third day with no Gilbert, Matthew went over to the Blythe farm to see if Gilbert was all right. What he found burdened him. He went home to tell Marilla.

"Anne," Marilla said gently, "Mr. Blythe has taken a turn for the worse. I think we should take you to visit him."

Anne looked down at herself, feeling conflicted. "I don't want him to see me this way...can't I wait until after it's come out?"

Marilla gave her a long look, gentleness in her eyes. "I don't think you understand, Anne. ...I don't know that you'll have that choice. You may have to either see him now, or not at all."

"Is it really that bad?" she whispered once she found her breath.

"It seems to be."

Anne saw there were tears in Marilla's eyes, too.

* * *

Dr. Carter came by that afternoon, and to Marilla's relief, said that everything seemed to be going well with Anne's health and the baby.

"I think we should plan on the train trip being next week," he told them. "I'll contact the boarding house, unless you've already done so."

Marilla told him, "I wrote a couple of weeks ago, inquiring about a room on the first floor. They've reserved one for us. And I've already sent the first weeks' rent."

Anne looked over at her, startled. Marilla had not told her that.

"Why do we have to go next week?" Anne asked, turning to Dr. Carter. "In a few days it's going to turn thirty-four weeks old and _you _said it's supposed to get to _forty_. Why do we have to stay there waiting on it to be born if it won't happen for _six weeks?"_

"I doubt very much it'll _be _six weeks, Anne. I told you, remember, that many women deliver earlier than that. And I feel quite sure about saying this little one will be coming sooner than the full forty weeks, and I want to be sure you're all settled comfortably there before it does," Dr. Carter explained.

"I don't want to go yet," Anne said, crossing her arms.

Marilla told her, "_I'd_ feel better if you were near the hospital at thirty-five weeks, Anne, in case it comes at thirty-six or thirty-seven weeks. I want you to be there a bit before, so that there's no mad rush and no extra worry."

Anne remembered how Gilbert had told her that having parents meant sometimes you had to do things you didn't want to do just so they wouldn't worry about you.

"One week," Anne said aloud. "I only have one week left at home and then we have to go."

She would not allow herself to think about what life would be like after next week.

Gilbert left his father long enough to come to Green Gables to see Anne.

He knew Anne did not want to go out, and after three whole days, he felt he'd been neglecting her. So he came by to visit with her quickly and then go back home to his father.

But when he arrived, Anne was not in her usual "visiting place" on the sofa with her quilt pulled over her.

"Anne has something to tell you," Marilla said in the doorway, stepping aside.

And there was Anne, standing up to greet him. He hadn't seen her stand for quite a long time, since she always felt she had to be hidden; even when she'd been up in her bedroom, she'd kept her blanket over her.

Gilbert was very surprised to see her. "Anne!" he cried. His eyes looked like someone who's been on a desert island and finally found a waterfall. And it was true; as hard as things were at home, a glimpse of Anne made the broken pieces come back together.

Anne wished she could wear her ruffled pinafore over her dress, but it just looked ridiculous at this point, stretched over her expanded form. Too nervous to be without anything covering her belly, she was holding one of Marilla's needlepoint pillows in front of her, as if needing it as a security blanket. She knew she'd have to set the pillow down very soon, but holding it right when she first saw him made it slightly less bad.

She smiled a bit, biting her lip. She was pleased to see him, but she was nervous, too, about being up and about in front of him. "Hi," she said. "Um…I'm glad to see you."

Gilbert almost laughed. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. I…can I hug you? Or…is that…"

He scolded himself for asking for physical contact the very first moment he saw her.

But Anne made a face, "You can, if you can _reach_ me."

She looked miserable, having to face him pregnant without being able to hide.

Gilbert almost laughed, coming closer and holding his arms out. Anne sighed. She moved the pillow away from in front of her and Marilla took it. Anne hugged Gilbert, feeling safe as always in his embrace, but ever aware of the baby that was sleeping between them. Gilbert hugged her gently as if afraid he'd break her.

When he pulled away, he looked deep into her eyes. "It's so nice to see you, Anne. I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry I didn't come for three days, but my father…"

Anne took a breath as if ready to go face the world. She looked up at Marilla. Marilla, putting her hands on Anne's shoulders, said to Gilbert, "Anne would like to ask you if she can come over and visit with your father."

Gilbert looked excited. "Yeah! Yeah. You don't know how much that'll mean to him. He's been asking for you."

Anne smiled, thinking it was so nice that Mr. Blythe liked her so much. Anne asked softly, "Is it a good time, though? I don't have to come _today_."

"No!" Gilbert said, "It's perfect. He'll be so glad!"

Marilla gently nudged Anne forward. "Can Anne ride with you, then? I can have Matthew pick her up later so that you don't have to drive back again."

"No," Gilbert said, "I'll happily bring her home, too, it'll just mean more time together."

Marilla smiled. "All right, then. I'll come out and help you get settled."

Marilla walked with Anne outside.

Gilbert watched as Marilla helped Anne into the buggy. She had brought a quilt for Anne that she wanted her to sit on in the buggy. She brought a light blanket too, although it was summer, she thought Anne should bring a light blanket she could wrap herself in or lay over her lap if she felt self-conscious, or if they met anyone on the road.

Once Anne was safely in, Marilla being sure the quilt gave her some padding to sit on and that she was comfortable, she waved them goodbye.

Anne felt nervous as they pulled away- she had not been out of the house in such a long time, and besides that, as much as she loved Mr. Blythe, she hated for him to see her in her current state.

"Why are you driving so slow?" Anne asked after a few minutes.

Gilbert kept looking over at her. "I don't want to jostle you," he said.

"I won't bounce right out of the buggy if you hit a pebble in the road," she told him.

Gilbert reached over and held her hand. "I hope not. I can't lose you."

* * *

When Anne was returned home later that evening, she had to tell Matthew and Marilla that Mr. Blythe did not know she had come. He had not woken up the entire time she was there.


	50. Packing and Visiting

For four days, Anne spent every waking moment with Mr. Blythe.

But on Monday, Marilla said, "Anne, I'll need to keep you home part of today. We're leaving tomorrow, and we need to be sure we're ready."

"I _can't _go, Marilla," Anne said in a panic. "Not _now_. They need me!"

Marilla looked torn. Finally she only repeated, softer- "We need to be sure we're ready."

* * *

Rachel had come over to tell Marilla her plans to look after Matthew while she and Anne were gone. "I thought I'd invite him to our house, but I doubt he'll come," she said. "So I intend to feed him from afar."

Marilla smiled, touching Rachel's hand, thinking to herself, _I can always rely on my 'bosom friend'. _And then she nearly laughed aloud, thinking she was becoming entirely too much like Anne.

* * *

Anne was standing in front of the large mirror, one hand holding a table cloth around her waist, and the other hand holding her hair, which she'd piled on top of her head.

"Anne, what on earth are you doing?" Marilla asked, stopping as she passed by.

"I'm seeing what I'd look like in grown up lady's clothes and with my hair up. Because maybe I ought to try to look older now while we travel. That way people on the train won't know I'm fourteen."

Anne grumpily dropped her hair, letting it fall back over her shoulders. "It doesn't _work_. I look like a child playing dress up!"

Marilla took the table cloth back. "That's because you _are _a child playing dress up. You don't need to try to look any different from how you are. No one will be paying a bit of attention. You put entirely too much importance on what other people might be thinking of you. And I'm surprised you're wasting time when you could be packing. As soon as you finish packing, Matthew's going to take you back to Mr. Blythe."

Anne stopped looking at herself in the mirror and went to find her carpet bag.

* * *

Anne herself didn't have much to pack, but there was the baby to think of.

Marilla came in to help her. "I'm bringing our knitting supplies, Anne, so we can keep working. And I want you to bring your geometry book with you. You ought to have something to keep your mind busy."

"All right," Anne complied, putting it into her carpet bag. "Marilla, I need something different to put the baby's things in. They won't fit in my carpet bag."

"I have valise for us to take. We had it in the attic, Matthew got it down and cleaned it yesterday."

"Where is it?" Anne asked.

"I'll get it," Marilla said. "You just fold the clothes."

When Marilla returned with the valise, she looked at what Anne was doing and remarked, "You don't need to take every single thing you've amassed for the baby, Anne. Some of these aren't the newborn things- you can leave the bigger sizes at home. We won't need them until after we've come back. And there's no reason to bring it's books, either."

Anne looked up at her, surprised. "But if I get somebody else to take it, then they're going to need _all _of these."

Marilla stared at her. "Oh," she said. "I see. I didn't know you were still having those considerations."

"You said I should wait until it gets here before I decide," Anne said, starting to get upset. "So I am! But why can't I make it go away, if I don't want it?"

"Don't cry," Marilla said, exasperated. "I didn't say you _couldn't _leave it. I was just surprised. You haven't said anything lately about it leaving."

"Well, I don't know," Anne said slowly.

Marilla shook her head, moving on. "Then you'll have to keep our clothes separate from Emily's clothes, because you can't accidentally give the people the clothes Emily gave you- she'd be upset not to have them back, when she and her husband have another baby at some point."

"Yes, I know," Anne said with a sigh, making two stacks of clothes- one of the ones she and Marilla had worked on, and one of the ones Emily had loaned her. "Marilla, I'm glad we didn't unpack the box that has the bed in it."

"We don't need to haul that with us," Marilla said. "You won't need it there. Rachel's babies all slept in a basket the first several weeks. She's given us hers to use."

"But I need it to give to the people who will take the baby away. It'll _have_ to have it's bed, won't it?"

Marilla didn't know what to say to that. "If we find someone to take the baby, they might already have a bed, and-"

"But I want it to have it's _own _bed," Anne cried, becoming emotional yet again. "That's the bed I picked for it and it's brand new, and chosen for it. They _have _to use it."

"Anne, we won't be able to control what they do- whoever the _'they' _is. But- oh, all right, we'll take it on the train with us. I'm sure there'll be room in the boarding house to store it somewhere."

"Good," Anne sniffed. She put her small stack of books she'd ordered into the large valise, and then went to her bed to get Jane's rabbit. Marilla thought she was going to put the rabbit into her carpetbag, because it was Anne's now- but Anne packed it in with the baby's things instead.

"Will Jane be all right with you giving that away?" Marilla asked, her brow creased.

"That's why she gave it to me," Anne said quietly. "I told her I might give the baby away and she asked if she could give it something to take with it. She brought back this rabbit and told me it was the first present she ever got when _she _was a baby, and that her great-grandmother gave it to her, and she wanted the baby to have it to keep."

This made Marilla sad.

Once Anne had finished packing, Matthew took her back to Gilbert for the evening.

Mr. Blythe was, again, asleep, and Gilbert regretfully told her that he'd fallen asleep only moments before she'd arrived. Anne could have cried.

"I'm sorry you haven't been able to get any real visiting in," Gilbert told her sadly. "And I know he misses you. ...Do you want to go home? I don't know if he'll be up again tonight."

"Do you think I should?" Anne asked. "I don't _want_ to. If he wakes up again, I'll miss him."

Anne saw the way Gilbert's eyes filled up- just because he was so grateful for her- and she took his hand.

They went quietly into his father's room, and sat together in silence until Gilbert said, "We can talk."

"Are you sure? It won't disturb him?"

"The other day when Dr. Carter was here, he was asking me something about my dad, and I started telling him this memory I have- about how my dad liked that kind of cheese that comes in a roll? And when I was little, he used to tell me that the moon was made of cheese...and that he'd special ordered that cheese, and it took one hundred postage stamps to have it sent all the way from the moon- and I believed him," Gilbert smiled, through the tears in his eyes.

"And when I told Dr. Carter that story, Anne, I saw my dad smiling. I think he might be listening to us, even if he's too tired to open his eyes...Let's talk a little while, because at least then he'll know you're here."


	51. The Night Before Leaving

Next few chapters might be a bit short, Im sorry.

* * *

When Gilbert heard Anne's stomach growling, he said, "I suppose I better get you home."

"I don't want to go home," Anne whispered.

"But-"

"I don't _ever _want to leave." She could not take her eyes off of Mr. Blythe's still figure.

Gilbert took her hand. "All right. At least let me make you something to eat."

Once Anne was sitting down at the kitchen table with meatloaf and mashed potatoes leftover from dinner, Gilbert said, "So tomorrow's the day, eh? How do you feel?"

"I wish I could stay _here _and have it," Anne said despondently. Her eyes fell to the newspaper on the kitchen table. "Oh _no_," she breathed.

"What?" Gilbert asked, alarmed.

Anne held up the paper in front of her, closing her eyes as if expecting something to bite her. Finally she opened them, and felt her heart drop to her feet as she read,

"Mr. and Mrs. Dennis Fletchley of 1647 East Price Hill, are delighted to announce the stork has blessed them with a visit this Friday past. A vision of heaven, the little tyke weighs in at nine lbs., 6 oz. and arrived with a mop of golden curls. The happy couple will have the baby christened 'Gregory' on July the 13."

Anne thought she might cry.

Gilbert knew the problem right away. "Darling, that's just a little _local _paper. They love printing things like that- that's all the news there is! Look, here, at _this _paper. _Cities _don't have the space- or the inclination- to print things like _that_. See-"

Anne tried to calm herself. She'd never get tired of hearing Gilbert calling her _darling_.

Gilbert opened the other paper there, and laid it flat in front of her. "Look," he said, running his finger down a long column of tiny print.

DAUGHTER, born to Mr. and Mrs. A.A. Shipley, 17 June.

SON, born to Mr. and Mrs. Edward L. Adams, 23 June.

SON, born to Mr. and Mrs. Ellison McHughes, 24 June.

DAUGHTER, born to Mr. and Mrs. R.K. Peters, June 24.

"It's _tiny_," Anne breathed, relieved. "All right, maybe it's good I'll have it in a far away city. No one will pay much notice to it, or that there's no _Mr. _listed in it."

Before Gilbert could respond, Anne blurted out, "But I don't want to go on the _train _because I don't want anyone to see me. This is just dreadfully humiliating! Gilbert, I tried to put my hair up and look older, but it didn't work! ...Everyone who sees me on the train- and, oh, _no_, at the hospital too!- they're all going to stare at me. Trains and hospitals are such _busy _places, all full of people..."

Gilbert put his arm around her. He rubbed her back for a second before saying, "In a hospital, things are busy. No one's going to pay that much attention to you. They'll be concerned with their own affairs. There will be lots of other patients. You said it yourself."

Anne sighed. She leaned on him for a moment and then said, "That's true. I suppose people will be busy. But...I stick out like a sore thumb. Once someone notices me, they'll probably point at me and whisper and then word will spread and everyone will be staring."

"The only thing that matters is safety," he told her. "Anne, if anyone looks at you, so what- you'll probably never see them again. Right? But _you _being safe- and the baby- that's the important thing."

Anne sighed. "I know. I guess." She rubbed her belly for a moment. _The Thing_ just needs to come out, in one piece, and not kill me in the process. That's all that matters."

"_The Thing,_" Gilbert repeated. "Don't let Miss Cuthbert hear you! I thought you were done with that."

"I am. I don't know why I said it," Anne told him. She rubbed her belly again. "I'm sorry," she told it, looking down at her belly. "You're not a _Thing, _and I really _do _want you, I want you a _lot_."

Gilbert looked surprised.

Anne mouthed to him, "I have to keep it on my good side."

He smiled, trying not to laugh, and squeezed her to him.

* * *

After he took Anne home, he spent the rest of the evening sitting in his father's bedroom, watching him breath.

Finally, he decided he needed to get up and move around, and get his mind on something. He could not stop thinking of Anne, and so he read perhaps the worst thing he could have read at a time like this- _Maidenhood and Motherhood_, the book by Dr. John D. West, which he'd ordered all those weeks ago.

He worried about Anne traveling tomorrow. Was there anything that could be done to make traveling _safer? _He searched until he found something about traveling:

"A peculiar condition of the nervous system is created by the vibratory motion of railway coaches or even on streetcars, which induces vomiting."

Gilbert thought to himself, _The last thing Anne needs is to feel sick on the way there. ...She likely already will. _

"This vomiting may rupture the very delicate membrane by which the foetus is attached to the inner surface of the womb. The result is inordinate flooding, followed by-"

_Followed by what? _Gilbert, with trepidation, turned the page:

"a miscarriage."

Gilbert stared at the book for a long moment. Then he stood up and went back into his dad's room, hoping that maybe he was awake.

But he wasn't.

His father had always been there, always listening, understanding- always knowing how to calm Gilbert's fears. Gilbert wished that he could talk to his father about this. Suddenly feeling so terribly alone, Gilbert climbed onto the bed and lay down next to his dad.

He stayed there for a long time.


	52. The Morning We Leave

Anne woke up in the morning with a feeling of dread, and for a brief moment she did not know why it was there. As she stretched, it hit her: today was the day she had to leave her home, and this also meant saying goodbye to Mr. Blythe.

She prayed it would not be forever.

"Are you awake?" she asked her belly. Then she smiled at herself. "I guess you don't _have_ to wake up to go. ...You didn't have to do your own packing, either. I have to do everything for you, don't I? Don't worry, I packed all your things. I didn't forget anything- I put away all your clothes, and your books, and your rabbit. Go ahead and sleep a few more minutes, but after I get washed and dressed and braid my hair, I'm going to go downstairs and eat breakfast, and you'll have to wake up then so you can eat. I hope you like scrambled eggs, because that's what I plan on having. ...Oh, I have an idea! You can poke at me if you don't like scrambled eggs, and I'll have something else. Well, go on- do it." She waited a moment, feeling her belly. "No poke. Scrambled eggs it is."

During breakfast, the baby woke up. Anne could tell the moment it happened, and began rubbing her belly so that it would know she was there. "Settle down now. We're going to Mr. Blythe's house after we're done eating. We have to say goodbye to him because we're going away for a little while. You can't talk, but I'll say goodbye for you. And then we're going on the train. You've never been on a train before. I think you'll like it, except the best part is looking out the window, and you can't do that."

Marilla and Matthew glanced at each other, finding it a good sign whenever Anne spoke to her baby.

The baby gave her a good strong kick. "It isn't _my _fault you can't look out the window," she said, offended. "You didn't exactly grow in a convenient place to be able to do things like look out of windows! Stop your fussing. If you come home with us on the train, I'll let you look out the window then."

"Oh, Anne, I just thought," Marilla spoke up. "Did you give your friends the address to the boarding house? So you can have letters?"

"Yes, I gave it to Jane weeks ago. Jane told me she's going to write me every single day and send me long newsy letters," Anne told her. "Jane and Gilbert gave the address to the other girls, and they're going to write me, too."

"I'm glad to hear that. It will be good for you to have letters to look forward to," Marilla said, pleased.

"Gilbert told me that Diana's mother said she'll allow her to write, as long as I don't say anything about...well, _what we're there for_. I suppose Mrs. Barry wants it to be as if we just went away on a trip! I'm allowed to tell her about being in the city, but if I say anything about the baby then she won't let Diana read my letters anymore. So I'll have to be careful."

"I think it's ridiculous that Mrs. Barry reads her daughters mail," Marilla bristled. "As if it must be censored! As if you could say anything that would defile her daughter! As if-"

"Marilla," Matthew cut in gently. "Let's not let Mrs. Barry join us for breakfast."

Anne started laughing.

Then Marilla couldn't help smiling too. "All right," she consented. "I won't worry about Mrs. Barry now. We'll just enjoy our breakfast together."

* * *

Matthew would drive Marilla and Anne to the Blythe's, and then to the train station.

When they arrived, Gilbert let them in. His hair was a mop of uncombed curls and he was still wearing yesterday's clothes, with his shirttails hanging out.

"Gilbert, have things gotten worse?" Marilla asked, her face ashen.

He shook his head. "No. I just didn't sleep very well. And...and I never really went to bed."

He did not want to tell them that part of why his night had been a mess was thinking of Anne on the train.

"Please, come in," he said, opening the door wider, and quickly tucking his shirt in as they came through the door.

"Is Mrs. Kincannon still coming?" Marilla asked, glancing toward the kitchen. She did not want to leave Gilbert with no one to make sure he was getting decent meals.

"Yes," he answered. "She had to stop coming for a few days because her husband was ill, but she said she'll be back tomorrow."

Marilla nodded, but her worry did not lift. "And Dr. Carter is still coming regularly?"

"Yes, he's been stopping in every day."

"That's good," Marilla breathed. Yet she still seemed unwilling to make their necessary trip if it meant leaving Gilbert behind.

Matthew spoke up, understanding Marilla: "I'll come see you, Gilbert, and help with anything I can. And you ride over to Green Gables if there's something you need and I'm not there. I'll come right away."

Gilbert said thank you, but he choked on the words and looked away from them.

"Is your dad...awake?" Anne's eyes already filled with tears at these words, because she could not bear it if she had to leave to board the train without being able to have one last talk with Mr. Blythe.

"I think so," Gilbert said. "He was a few minutes ago. I'll check. Do you all want to come in with me?"

Marilla cleared her throat. "Anne, why don't you go in with Gilbert and talk to him by yourself? I can speak to him afterward, if he's still awake then."

Marilla found herself with things she _must _say; things that had long gone unsaid, but now the time had come to say them.

...But if Mr. Blythe had energy to be awake for only a little while, she would press Anne forward, sacrificing her own chance to speak with John. No matter how it may burden her to miss out on the opportunity to make things right with him at last, she would not take away Anne's opportunity to have her own last goodbye.

As Anne slipped quietly into the darkened room and closed the door behind her, Marilla said a silent prayer that John would still be with them when her turn came.


	53. A Last Goodbye

_This chapter was a collab with **oz diva**, who inspires me every single day!_

_Thank you, oz diva, for writing this chapter with me. I love our hugely long messages of going back and forth over the details of this chapter, and you not minding that I was constantly saying "heeeellllllpppppp meeeeee" when trying to write about John and Marilla._

_I hope all of you readers like it! _

_Oz diva's writing is really one of the absolute bests of FanFiction. She has brought so much to Marilla, and I am completely flattered that she would collab with me__. **Love you, oz diva.** Readers, go check out oz diva because her stories are where I steal- um, borrow?- Marilla from. ;)_

* * *

_"_Mr. Blythe," Anne whispered.

He did not say her name, but his eyes said everything.

She took his hand and squeezed it, wishing she could pour some of her own energy into him.

"I know I already told you I have to leave today, but I wish it wasn't true," she told him regretfully. "I _wouldn't_ leave you if I didn't _have_ to. But I don't have any choice. We have to go to where we're staying, so I'll be near the hospital. ...I _wish _I could stay with _you_."

There was quiet for a moment, Anne wanting to speak but not wanting to cry while she did.

Suddenly she felt a soft nudge from inside.

"Oh," she almost laughed. "I'm sorry. I forgot about you."

"Hmm?" Mr. Blythe breathed.

"The baby, Mr. Blythe. You see, I _told _it that we were coming to see you today before we went on the train. I think...I think it just wanted to make sure I didn't forget about it."

He smiled.

"I think it wants to talk to you," she told him. "It always pokes at me when it has something to say. We talk to each other a lot, the baby and I. ...Do you want to see what it wants to tell you?"

He answered again with a smile.

Anne picked up his fragile hand and held it to her belly. After several moments, the baby greeted him with a healthy kick. When she looked back at Mr. Blythe, she saw a tear, shining like a pearl, caught in the corner of his eye.

"It says it likes you," Anne said to him, trying to ignore the tear, because she felt a sob rising in her throat. "When we come back home, I'll bring the baby here to visit...all right?"

He smiled again, but it was the sort of smile you give when you know somebody is trying to make you feel better.

Anne was not sure even at that moment whether she really _wanted _to bring the baby home _at all_\- but she'd figure that out later. For now, it didn't matter- the only thing that mattered was keeping Mr. Blythe smiling.

"Gilbert thinks it's a girl," he said, struggling to get the words out.

"I haven't even thought of it as a boy _or _a girl," Anne admitted. "I've just thought of it as a _baby_. And sometimes I've thought of it as a potato. ...Once I thought of it as an onion."

Gilbert gave Anne that impish smile he had, the one that made his eyes sparkle.

"An onion, eh?" Mr. Blythe asked. Mr. Blythe did not know what she was talking about, but he couldn't help but laugh- which only came out as a broken, raspy cough.

"Oh, no," Anne said worriedly.

"No," he breathed. "I'm...all right."

Anne held his hand again. "Mr. Blythe, I _love_ you," she said, unable to keep two fat tears from slipping down her cheeks. "And my baby loves you, _too_."

She could sense him struggling to respond, and she quickly begged, "Don't say _anything_. You don't have to say it back to me. I already _know_. ...I've known from the very first day I met you. When Gilbert and I skipped school...and he brought me _here,_ to your house...and you didn't _ask _me why I didn't want to go to school...you just told me to come on in and make myself at home...and...and the pancakes," she choked on her words and could not continue.

She tried to get herself back together: "And the stories. The magazines. _Walden_. But it isn't just in the _things_. It's in everything you say and _do_, Mr. Blythe. You've always made me feel…"

Anne was struggling for a word, because none seemed special enough.

"Cherished," she finally whispered.

She blinked back her tears. "So, you see, I already _know_ you love me. You don't have to _say_ it. Just rest for now, and I'll come home soon."

* * *

The door finally opened, and there was Anne. The dim, flickering light made a silhouette of her as she lingered a moment in the doorway, her head leaning on the doorframe, her hand cradling her belly. "He'd like to see you," she breathed, barely loud enough to be heard.

Taking a steadying breath, Marilla walked through the door, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. With the blinds closed and only a few candles lit, the room was dark- as John wished, because the light hurt his eyes.

Marilla hastily stopped herself from gasping audibly when she first saw his pale, waxy complexion.

"I...I hope...I hope I'm not an unwelcome visitor," she stammered, when she could not seem to say anything.

"Anne- told me-" he could not finish quickly, and she had to wait for him to swallow, take another breath, and begin again. "Told me you came. I'm glad."

She felt clumsy as she reached for the chair in front of her and lowered herself into it, never taking her eyes off John.

"Mar," he struggled to say.

That simple name- who called her Mar?- made her eyes brim with unshed tears.

John wanted to hold her hand, but found himself unable to find the strength to reach toward her.

But Marilla read his mind, and took his hand in her own- and just like all those times when she was young, she felt a spark pass from his hand to hers.

She looked down at that hand, once so strong and reassuring, now limp with weakness. Marilla knew, then, that she would be the one to do most of the talking in this, their final conversation.

"John," she exhaled.

The name felt like a complete sentence, and for a moment she said nothing else.

He smiled wanly at her, more with his eyes than with his mouth.

"John, you have raised a wonderful young man. You must be _so_ proud of him. I know I would be, if he were..." She stumbled there, shaky, and then finished: "If he were mine."

John could only smile in response.

She began again, unburdening herself this time: "John, I- the way I left things...between us. I was always sorry for it. I hope you know that."

"Mar-" he began, as if to shake his head.

"No, John, I- I got upset over- over _silly_ things, things that don't seem to matter anymore. I...I never had an easy time showing my feelings, and I caused you to suffer for it. I regretted the way I treated you, but...I never seemed to be able to make things right."

She could not look at him when she said:

"I should still have reached out. Been kinder. Acted more charitable. But I suppose I was jealous of the happiness you found with your wife- until her passing, of course. And then I grieved over how you suffered, but it was a private grief. I...I ought to have _done_ something, but I didn't know what to do, or if you'd see my attempt at friendship as intrusive. So I stayed away."

Marilla started to worry that she was doing this more for herself than for him, and she began to be upset with herself for potentially causing him more stress. She _tried_ to smile, though her eyes were mournful. "I used to feel regretful of the life I could have had with you...but I can't be, now- seeing your son. I'm glad- _so _glad- that you found your wife and married her and had a life together, short as it was." She took a deep breath as she explained, "Because what came out of that marriage was nothing short of a miracle- the world needs Gilbert Blythe in it. And my Anne wouldn't be the same without him. He's been a remarkable friend to her through such a trying time."

"She's everything to him,"John said simply, his voice weak.

Marilla couldn't help the note of surprise in her voice. "You've noticed the way they are with each other, then?"

John gave a smile that was rarely seen these days. "Mar, if I were well, I'd tell him not to rush into things; he's got plenty of time to grow up."

He stopped a moment to breathe. "But life is so short, and time, so precious. ...He'd marry her tomorrow if you'd allow it. And I gave him my blessing long ago. They're still _children_, I know- and not even old enough to _court_ yet. But _someday_...someday you may have yourself a son-in-law. I hope you're not opposed to it."

He was glad that was all he had to say, because the speech had worn him out.

Marilla knew, of course, that Anne and Gilbert were very close, and she knew they had discussed marrying someday. But she had no idea that it was something John had talked seriously to his son about, let alone already given him his blessing.

"John, there is nothing I'd love more. You see, we're really a family, all of us. It didn't happen the way that you and I expected it would all those long years ago, but it must have been _God's_ plan, because it happened- just _later_, with our _children_."

When Marilla slipped quietly out of John's room, her eyes were wet with tears.


	54. Goodbye to Gilbert

After they came out of the house, they stood on the porch talking just briefly. Marilla gave Gilbert a long hug, telling him to be sure to write, and don't hesitate to call on Matthew should he need anything- even if what he needed was just a bit of company.

Matthew, surprising Marilla, came forward and hugged Gilbert, too. Matthew had no need of goodbyes, _he_ wasn't leaving town with Marilla and Anne, and he would be seeing Gilbert the very next day. But Anne had a feeling that Matthew's display toward Gilbert was really meant to send a message to _her_. And Anne, who _already _loved Matthew with all her heart, felt her heart grow even fuller: Seeing Matthew's affection given away like that made it easier for her to leave Gilbert behind.

"Anne, we'll, uh...we'll give you a few minutes," Matthew said, after seeing the expression in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her. "We'll wait in the buggy."

And then they were alone.

Anne looked like she might cry. "Oh, Gilbert," she said, leaning into him. "I _know _I went on and on about traveling looking like this, and I _know _what you said- and Marilla says the same thing- but it's going to be awful, _too _awful, I can't _bear _it-"

She had started to cry against his shoulder. "And it isn't just about being...being..._expecting_. When we come home- if I don't find somebody else to take it away- I'll have to bring it back with us, and everyone's going to see me carrying a _baby!"_

"Anne, darling- please don't cry," Gilbert said, holding her close. "Why does it have to be embarrassing?"

"Because I'm not married and I look so young!" Anne said, broken.

Gilbert did not know what he could _currently _do about the 'not married' part, but he could at least confront the issue of her age: "You think it'll embarrass you because you look young? That's exactly why it shouldn't- you _do _look young, so young that no one will think you're it's _mother! _They'll think you're just looking after your little sibling. Or that you're employed as it's nanny. That's all they'll think, I promise you."

"But what if the dreadful thing looks like _me?_ I don't _want _it to look like me! Everyone will know it's mine!" Anne cried.

"I'll be a newborn, Anne, and they all look the same, don't they- just wrinkly little creatures?" he smiled at her. "No one will think it looks like you."

Anne was unconvinced.

"And even if you think it does, remember, it'll be all wrapped up in that basket, darling, no one will even _see _what it looks like," Gilbert said calmly, holding her.

Anne tried desperately to stop crying. "I hate this," she said wiping her eyes. "I hate this so much. I don't want to get on that train looking like this! I don't want to come back on the train holding it! I'm an unwed mother and everyone's going to know it! I'm so tired of being judged, Gilbert! All my _life_..."

Gilbert just held her; he didn't know what else he could do. After a moment, he kissed her on the cheek, and instantly regretted that he hadn't asked her first. But Anne only seemed to sink into him further.

"I love you," he told her, his voice full of emotion. "So, so much. I wish I could come with you."

"I don't _want _you to!" Anne said miserably. "Even though I _do _want you to! Oh, there's no good way to be. You need to stay with your dad, Gilbert, but even if you _could _come, I don't want you there- I don't want you to be around, seeing all that- what if I get even bigger? And I don't want you there when it _happens_. ...Oh, Gilbert, I'm _sorry…"_

"What for, love?"

Anne tried to catch her breath. "I told myself I was going to be very brave and not let you know how scared I am!"

"Oh, Anne...:"

"And I told myself that I'd be selfless and giving and only think of _your _predicament and not my own! I didn't want you to worry about me, not when you have your father to worry about! But I couldn't even do that! I'm sorry. I don't mean to be selfish, I just-" but she could not continue, because she was crying too hard.

Gilbert held her. "You're not selfish, love. Not at all. You don't have one selfish bone in your body. Everything will be fine. My dad will get better and he'll be good as new when you come home. You just think about feeling better, and about the baby. Nothing else matters."

Anne breathed in his scent and tried to memorize the feeling of his lips against her cheek. She put her hand through his hair, so she could memorize that, too.

"Anne," Marilla called, walking back toward them. "We need to go."

She did not bother saying anything about the two of them clinging so closely to each other. She realized sadly that Matthew was right when he'd pointed out that there was really no danger in letting Anne and Gilbert be close to eachother now. Marilla thought a mother had a duty to be sure her daughter didn't lose her purity. But it seemed a foolish thought, when the daughter she was raising was already pregnant. She decided there was nothing to guard, at this point, and if Gilbert showed Anne that she was worthy of being _loved- _that she was _not _"damaged goods" that no man would want- _the message that society would have her believe- _then Marilla was glad for his affections.

Anne pulled away so they could look into each other's faces. They just stared, wordless, until Marilla repeated herself, gently: "Anne, dear- we need to go."

Anne shuddered, and broke apart from him. "I'm about to go be shamed. Publicly." But she tried to laugh this off.

"No one on that train, or in that hospital, matters."

Anne wished _she_ could feel that easy about it. "I feel as though the whole _world _is watching," she murmured.

"The whole world _is _watching. Me, and you, and Mr. and Miss Cuthbert, and my father, and your baby. That _is _the whole world." He stroked her cheek. "It's _my _whole world, anyway."

This only made Anne break into fresh tears.

"Anne," Marilla said, insistent. "We _must _go. Now."

She hugged him one more time, then went with Marilla.

He helped her up into the buggy, and kissed her hand as they pulled away.

Anne stared back at him as they drove off.

He watched until she disappeared, and then he slowly went back into the house and shut the door. He leaned against the doorframe for a long moment, breathing.

Suddenly, as the image flashed before his eyes again- the image of her leaving- her face lined with shame, and her hand, naked of a ring, over her pregnant belly- he had an idea.

But he'd have to ask his father first.


	55. Something Borrowed

When they arrived at the train station, they had to wait nearly a half hour before their train. Marilla had wanted to leave early enough that they would not need to rush. Anne did not mind because this gave her lots of time with Matthew before she had to leave.

"It isn't really goodbye," Anne told him. "Because you're going to come visit, every time there can be a pause in the work."

"Work don't seem to matter now," Matthew said, feeling guilt for not being with her all the time.

"It _does_, though," Anne told him. "A farm can't survive if it's neglected, after all. And I have to have a home to come home _to_, don't I?"

Matthew didn't say anything. He just held her close to him like a baby, because she _was _his baby, and he was ever aware of the danger she was soon to face, and the terrible, _not-to-be-spoken _possibility that she might not come home to him.

As they were beginning to board the train, they heard a shout. "Anne! Anne!"

Anne turned and was startled to see Gilbert rushing toward them.

"Gilbert!" she cried, tears springing to her eyes at the joy of seeing him one more time. But then- "Oh, no, nothing's happened?"

Gilbert shook his head. "No, no. Nothing like that. I just came to give you something."

He laid it in her palm. "Take this with you," he told her breathlessly.

Anne stared down at it.

It was a thin gold band.

"It was my mother's wedding ring," he said. "Keep it with you. If you start to feel worried, you can put it on, and then everyone will think you're married. And then you won't have to feel that way anymore."

Anne was still staring down at the ring in her hand. Not taking her eyes from it, she whispered fearfully, "What if I lose it?"

"You won't lose it if you're wearing it." He smiled.

She still didn't move.

"Look," he said, having a sudden idea. "Let me have that chain- the one I gave you for your birthday."

Anne unclasped it.

Gilbert took it and slipped the ring on it, then clasped the chain back around her neck again.

"There," Gilbert said. "Now you won't lose it."

Anne still could not speak; it was an uncommon occurrence for her to lose all ability to form words, but this accomplished that.

Gilbert reminded her: "Didn't I promise you I'd get you something to put _on _that chain?"

"Yes, you did," Anne breathed, finally finding words. "But...but I can't keep your mother's ring."

"You're _not_, not _really- _you're just _borrowing _it," he told her.

And with a smile meant only for himself, he finished:

"After all, I'll need it back."


	56. Train Trip

Anne was afraid Marilla would not like this. But Marilla commented softly, "He's very thoughtful." and then she seemed to need to clear her throat suddenly, and ushered Anne ahead.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable carrying one bag in each hand, like I'm doing?" Marilla asked as she and Anne boarded.

Marilla had her own bag in one hand, and Anne's bag of baby clothes in the other. She had taken these because they were the fuller of their luggage. Anne was carrying her own lightweight carpet bag and the empty baby basket, because these were the lightest items- but, Marilla noticed, she was holding them both together and in front of herself, as if to try to hide her belly. Anne shook her head resolutely, and Marilla sighed, deciding not press the issue. She knew Anne was not going to carry them any differently. "Well, let's get to our seats quickly so we can wave to Matthew," was all she said.

* * *

"I'm glad we decided to leave the baby's bed at home after all. I prefer traveling with just our few bags. It makes things less complicated," Marilla commented once the train was rolling along the tracks

"_I _didn't decide to leave the bed home," Anne said grumpily. "You did. I thought we should have brought it with us.'

"Anne, if we bring the baby home, then there'll have been no point in hauling that bed around."

"We might not be bringing it home," Anne said.

Anne looked like she was going to launch into a speech.

Marilla cut her off before she could start, saying, "We can just as easily send the bed to the people by mail, through the post office. After all, it was delivered to _us _that way."

"And the books, too?" Anne asked sadly. "You made me take those out of my bag! And I wanted to bring them for the baby…What if I _mail _them to it, and the post man brings them, but it's raining, and he drops them in a puddle, and they get all wet and soggy, and then they get mildew, and then when the people open them they're all tragically ruined, and the baby never gets any books at all, and because it doesn't have any books, it might never be read stories, and-"

"Anne," Marilla said calmly. "Perhaps you could take them in person. We could see about making a visit, sometime later."

* * *

Later, a lady with a cart came by. Anne had drifted off into a light doze- but Marilla, glancing at her with a small smile, asked the lady what their dessert options were.

The lady returned a short while later, and Anne was pulled from her doze by the aroma of something.

"Time to wake up, Anne," Marilla said softly.

"What is it?" Anne asked, looking around.

"I think our dessert is coming down the aisle," Marilla told her, hearing a cart rolling and the delicious scent getting closer.

"Our dessert?" Anne rubbed her eyes.

"You didn't think I'd forget that today is Tuesday, did you?" Marilla asked.

"_Marilla! _You.._.I'd _forgotten! How perfectly, wholesomely, thoughtfully kind you are to remember! Oh, it's positively _thrilling_ to be served a heavenly smelling _dessert_ on a _train!"_

A pleased flush filled Marilla's face. But she said only: "Well, you'll have to try not to chatter on too much, or the ice cream on top will melt."

"Ooh- what is it?" Anne wondered, turning around in her seat as the lady stopped in front of them and lifted the lid over the cart.

"It's called a Brown Betty," the lady told her with a smile, placing a bowl in front of each of them. "It's an Appalachian recipe."

"How delicious a word- _Appalachian- _it's a word as delicious sounding as the dessert! Thank you...Caroline," Anne said, looking at the lady's name badge. "Oh, what a pretty name. It sounds so _musical_."

As they ate, Marilla asked, "How do you feel? I was concerned that the train trip would make you nauseated."

Anne thought a moment. "No, I'm all right. ...You know, when we left, Gilbert told me his father would be good as new and up and about when we come home." Anne's face was troubled. "I want him to be, but he looked so bad off today...and I think Gilbert _knows _that...Marilla, sometimes I think he doesn't tell me the truth. I don't think he means to lie to me, exactly, it's more…he doesn't want me to feel scared so he tries to tell me everything's going to be fine…but I know he's worried about things, too."

"He wants to protect you," Marilla stated.

Anne thought about this, then slowly nodded. "I guess he does, yeah."

* * *

"What's a boarding house, anyway?" Anne asked a short while later. "Is it like a hotel?"

"A little bit," Marilla explained. "But for longer stays, like us. And often people live in boarding houses _all _the time, instead of renting an apartment. Young men working in cities often live in them because meals are all provided- it's included in the rent- so they've no need to try to cook for themselves. Oh, I hope _ours _won't be full of men..."

"Do women ever live alone in them?" Anne asked curiously.

"Yes, if a young woman is working away from home, she'll usually stay in a boarding house because it offers some protection for her reputation."

"What do you mean?" Anne wanted to know.

"I mean because boarding houses are usually run by women, and they're a bit _chaperoned_," Marilla explained. "If a woman lives in an apartment building, she might develop a...reputation. But living in a boarding house ensures people won't think she lives an unchaste lifestyle, because in a boarding house she wouldn't be _allowed _to have men in."

Then Marilla had a thought: "Oh, dear- we should have looked for one that _only _had women in it. What if we get one that's full of vagrants and thieves?" Her face changed with worry.

Anne smiled. "Women could be vagrants and thieves, _too_," she pointed out.

"Anne," Marilla said with an exasperated shake of her head. "If you haven't anything useful to say, then hold your tongue."

* * *

But Marilla would not need to worry. The boarding house was run by a widow and her grown but as yet unmarried daughter. They also had a young man they'd hired to carry luggage, take shifts at the desk, and handle various odd jobs around the place. The people who stayed in the boarding house seemed to be respectable people who worked in nearby factories, and there were even a few young families who were staying in the boarding house until they could save enough to afford their own home. Marilla would be happy to discover, over time, that no matter what kind of colorful expressions she heard out on the streets, there didn't seem to be anyone in the house who used coarse language.


	57. Boarding House in the City

Once they found the boarding house and came to the desk, the young man working said, "Oh, yes, Miss Cuthbert, how do you do? We have you in room one-oh-three, if you'll follow me. I'll get your luggage."

He took Marilla's bag on one arm and Anne's carpet bag and valise in his other hand. Marilla kept the baby basket, it being empty and light.

"That's an awful lot to carry," Anne told him. "I can carry my own."

The young man smiled at them. "I am used to handling luggage, it isn't heavy to me at all."

He set the things down when he reached the room, the third one in the hallway. He opened the door, then picked up their things again.

"Miss White cleaned the room this morning, but be sure to let us know if there is anything that needs attention," he said.

"Oh- uh, I'm...I'm afraid there's been a mistake," Marilla said. "This can't be the room we rented."

Anne looked at her, startled.

The young man seemed startled as well. He took a pad out of his pocket and looked down at it. "Uh...it says room one-oh-three...I...I can go check again…"

Marilla looked at Anne. "Anne, you just stay here with our belongings for a moment, and I'll be right back."

Marilla followed him to the desk out in the parlor.

He rifled through some papers. "I'm not sure where the mistake is, Ma'am. We have you down as one-oh-three. You _are _Miss Marilla Cuthbert, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, but-" Marilla wasn't sure what to say. "You see, the room I rented was an ordinary room. It wasn't a room with it's own little parlor attached to it- it was just a bedroom."

The porter found her check. "Hmm. This check you sent us is for room one-oh-four. I wonder why we have you listed as room one-oh-_three?_"

He moved the check aside and found another one underneath. "Oh, I see. When we received your _next _check, there was a note to upgrade to our best room."

"But I didn't send a _next _check," Marilla said, confused. "I've only paid the first week. We were just going to pay week to week…"

"We got another check…" he read it. "From a Mr. Harmon Andrews," he told her, handing it to her to look at. There was a note clipped to the check.

Marilla frowned. She read the note that had come with the check: _Please find attached a check for two months' rent for Miss Cuthbert's stay. Please upgrade the room to your finest standard, and send any further bills to the address below: Mr. and Mrs. Harmon Andrews, Avonlea, Prince Edward Island…"_

Marilla did not know what to do. She was confused about how the Andrews knew where they were staying, until she remembered that Anne had given Jane their address so the two girls could write letters back and forth. She had not expected the Andrews to offer up any further assistance, though- particularly without being _asked_\- and she was not sure how to receive this.

"Uh. Thank you," she finally said. "I...didn't realize."

She went slowly back to their room.

Anne was still standing there, waiting. "Marilla,_ look!"_ she cried. "_You_ said everyone in a boarding house eats together in the dining room but look- there's this little card that we can fill out and have our breakfast _delivered!_ ...That lady will bring _our _breakfast right to our _room_ if we want her to!"

Marilla nodded, still troubled.

But then she decided Anne did not need to know why they had better accommodations than expected.

"That's nice, isn't it," she told her. "Well, let's get our things put away now."

Anne looked at the bed. "Look, Marilla, look at our bed. Look at the bed skirt, isn't it pretty? Can I have a bed skirt on my bed at home? Oh, look at the chairs, Marilla, they're so fluffy and puffy!" She giggled with delight.

"We have a closet, that's good," Marilla said, glancing at the door near the corner, next to the bed.

"There's a chest of drawers, too," Anne said, opening one up to look inside.

"Well, I think the boarding house as a whole appears very suitable," Marilla said, pleased. "I wasn't sure _what _we'd find, though I'm sure Dr. Carter wouldn't have wrongly directed us. ...I'll have to write him and tell him we're grateful for his recommendation."

"Marilla, I have to use the privy...again," Anne spoke up, worried. "I don't know where to go…"

"I'll come with you," Marilla said. "We'll have to ask at the desk."

But when they went back to the desk, the young man was gone and the widow's daughter had taken his place. Marilla was glad, since her question was about such a private matter.

"Excuse me, could you tell us where the facilities are?" Marilla asked quietly of the young woman.

"Just down the hall, all the way in the back, on the left," she said.

"_Inside?_" Anne asked, her eyes bugged out.

The lady looked down at her roster. "Wait- you are Miss Cuthbert? Do we have you in one-oh-three, or one-oh-four? I believe that your room has its own separate bath- if you are in one-oh-three...?"

"We are," Marilla said, her eyes as wide as Anne's.

The lady smiled. "Let me come and be sure it is ready for use."

Marilla and Anne looked at each other. They followed her back to the room.

"Ah. yes- here you are," the lady announced, opening the door that Marilla had assumed to be a closet. She would not have thought of such a thing as having a privy indoors.

"Oh, how _breathtaking!" _Anne cried.

Marilla couldn't help smiling, amused at a sort of _privy _being 'breathtaking'.

The lady smiled, too. "If you need anything else, feel free to ask," she said kindly before leaving them.

"Oh, to think of not having to get your shoes and your coat and go outdoors when it's cold out," Anne spun around. "Imagine having this at _home_. Wouldn't it be _wonderful?"_

"I'm not sure," Marilla said, unconvinced. "I don't know if it's healthful to have one indoors. Oh, it's a nice convenience while we're away, but for something _all _the time, I'd be afraid of toxins infecting the house. And what if the plumbing backs up? I'd live in fear! ...As it is, Anne, be sure to shut the door whenever it's not in use- I don't know if it's safe to leave open; perhaps there are fumes that enter the air."

Anne laughed.

Marilla had another worry: "You mustn't go yet, you'll have to hold it. I must clean beforehand."

"Wouldn't they have already cleaned it before we arrived?" Anne asked. "It _looks _clean."

Marilla looked at the seat with a critical eye. "I won't rely on their cleaning. I'd feel better if I cleaned it myself."

She looked around the room. "I'll use one of _their _towels for _this _purpose," she said. "I'm glad I had the foresight to bring our own towels from home for our personal use."

"Marilla, I have to go…" Anne whined softly.

"Well, you're going to have to wait. I won't have you sitting on a seat someone else's...bottom...could have been on." Marilla turned the water on and got one of the towels and soap.

"But at _home _we use the same privies as other people! What about when we go to _church_, or when I'm at school? _Everyone _uses the same one!"

"That's at home, with good, clean, church-going folk," Marilla explained.

Anne did not see how going to church made someone's bottom cleaner.

But she couldn't help laughing at Marilla's reaction to being in an unfamiliar place with facilities others had used before them.

Marilla began scrubbing away at the seat while Anne tried not to think about how strongly she needed to relieve herself.

"Marilla, please hurry," Anne compelled. "I have to _go_. I drank _ever_ so many glasses of water on the train!"

"You're going to have to wait," Marilla said. Then, under her breath, she muttered, "We're liable to end up with venereal disease, using toilets in the city!"

"What's venereal disease?" Anne asked curiously.

Marilla stopped short, not realizing she'd even said it.

"Uh...it's something you get from living an unclean lifestyle," she said carefully.

"An unclean lifestyle?" Anne asked. "Oh, do you mean like- like how you have Matthew change his boots after he comes in from the field, so he won't get the floors dirty?"

"Yes," Marilla said with a sigh of relief. "Exactly."

"But...what do muddy boots have to do with catching something from a public privy?" Anne asked, confused.

"Anne, stop your chattering and use the privy!" Marilla said, flustered, standing up and leaving her.


	58. The First Night Away

_Today is July 12,_ Anne wrote. _It's our first day here at the boarding house._

_I liked the train, and I like the boarding house, though Marilla isn't convinced that it's all sanitary because she's never used a privy that was right inside the house. She told me we'll have to keep a rolled up towel against the bottom of the door, because she thinks there might be toxic fumes that rise up out of the toilet water and float around in the air. I don't know about that, but I think it's wonderful not to have to leave our room, especially now that I have to go just about every minute! _

_T__his evening when we had dinner, I didn't want to eat in the dining room, but Marilla made me. Marilla isn't used to not cooking for herself. She worried about the cleanliness of the kitchen, but she offered to help Mrs. White carry out the dishes, which gave her a good glimpse of the kitchen, and she says it has floors you could eat off of, so she's much relieved. Dinner was scrumptious, and Marilla says she feels very spoiled, having someone else do the cooking. _

_When we arrived, I thought how very interesting it would be to run a boarding house- to meet so many people and live with them and hear their stories- but after seeing that you have to provide breakfasts and dinners, I've changed my mind. It's an awful lot of cooking. _

_I was so terribly embarrassed to go to the dining room (I'm very glad that our special room has breakfast delivery) but to go to dinner...If we were here for any other reason, I'd be excited to meet the people who live here. But now I'm just afraid everyone I ever meet will be awful to me. I can't hide this baby at all! _

_Today is it's birthday again; it's thirty-five weeks old today. Mrs. Lynde said once that she thought it was silly of me to call it "something weeks __old__" when it hasn't been born yet. ...I don't know why people call the time they're waiting "expecting", anyway- I'm not expecting a baby, I've already __got __one- and it's interfering with everything! _

_Nobody was unkind to me at dinner, though a few people were sort of cold to me. I put on Gilbert's ring, though, before we went out to the dining room. He gave it to me to wear while we're here so that I won't have to be so embarrassed. I might wear it all the time, I haven't decided yet. I suppose the ring might seem a bit silly- I know I look too young to be married; I'm not even wearing my hair up or long skirts or anything yet- so maybe it isn't quite __believable __that I could be married...but I look too young to have a baby, too, and I can't __hide __the baby, so at least with a ring on I won't be regarded as an unwed mother. _

_I wonder if Marilla would lie for me about it. I hope so...if someone asks about me, maybe she could say that my husband is home and can't get away from his job right now, so he couldn't come with me to the hospital and my mother came instead._

_Well, I suppose I don't have anything else to say just now, except that I miss you dearly, Jane, and I am going to sleep with your stuffed rabbit every night, until I give it to the baby to keep._

Anne's next letter was to Diana, though it had to be much shorter and much more carefully written. She told her about the train trip, including her dessert, though she did not know how to spell Appalachian correctly, and then she described every detail of the boarding house. She could not say anything else, and after inquiring about Diana's well being, she ended it.

She waited until just before bed to write to Gilbert. She'd written for nearly an hour before Marilla told her_ 'Lights out now, Anne'_ and she was obliged to put down her pen.

Anne slept beautifully that night. The bed was like a cloud, and seemed to cradle her uncomfortable pregnant form. Marilla did not sleep as soundly, finding the bed to be far too plump, preferring the firm mattress of her bed at home. She tossed and turned all night.

Once Marilla finally drifted off, she was quickly woken by the sound of someone coming down the stairs and heading for the privy at the end of the hall. She realized how fortunate they were to have a room with an attached privy. Marilla would not have felt safe leaving the room- or letting Anne leave alone- to use it. And then, of course, she would have had to clean it every single time they went to use it, so that they would not be sitting where someone else had sat before.

Marilla finally fell asleep again, but woke up twice more during the night, for reasons she could not explain. She began to worry about being on the first floor. It was what she had requested, thinking it would be safer for Anne to avoid having to go up and down stairs while pregnant, but now, experiencing her first night in the city, she worried that requesting the first floor had put them in danger. What if a burglar broke through the window that was only a few feet away from the bed? She lay in the dark, frozen in fear until she scolded herself for her lack of trust in the Lord's protection._ I ought to be praying, not worrying, _she told herself firmly. She reached out in the darkness and pulled Anne closer to her. Anne did not wake, only stirred and whimpered in her sleep. S_hh,_ Marilla murmured, wrapping her arms around Anne's sleeping form. _Lord, please protect us here in the city. Keep my sweet little girl safe. Surround her with angels to guard her and this baby. Amen._

When Anne woke in the morning, she felt bad that she'd apparently rolled all the way over to Marilla's side of the bed. She worried that she must have disturbed Marilla's sleep, and she hoped Marilla wouldn't be put out with her for getting so close.


	59. Getting Used to the Hospital

That night, Gilbert could not rest. He'd taken, lately, to sleeping on the chair in his father's room, in case he was needed during the night, but his father did not seem to need him for anything now.

He thought of all the sleepless nights when his father would be coughing, but now the house was too quiet and too still. His father was sleeping comfortably, but that did not ease Gilbert's mind.

He paced his father's bedroom floor, worrying about his father, worrying about Anne, worrying about this nameless baby that he already cared about every bit as much as he cared about her.

He was relieved that no more than a day went by before he received a letter from her. She mentioned nothing about being sick on the train or about bleeding or having to see the doctor right away, so he praised God she hadn't lost the baby.

"Dad," he said softly. "Anne is all right. She got there safely."

His dad was able to say three words: "Glad. So glad."

* * *

On her first full day in the boarding house, they ordered breakfast in, and then got ready to go to the hospital, because Anne was going to have her first appointment and meet the obstetrician who would deliver the baby. She did not want to go.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have scheduled the appointment so quickly after arriving," Marilla worried. "Perhaps you ought to have had a day to rest after traveling. It could be too much on the system."

Anne was happy to latch onto this idea. "It _is _too much. I better not go. I should just stay here."

Marila looked at her, her face conflicted, but finally she said, "Well, it's only just across the street. You won't have to walk far, and you won't have to be jostled around driving in a buggy. I think it'll work out."

Anne was grumpy, but she did as Marilla told her and put on her hat.

"Are you really going to wear that ring everywhere we go?" Marilla asked, seeing Anne take off the chain around her neck so she could remove the ring from it and place it on her finger.

"I have to," Anne said firmly. "So that I"m not ridiculed and spat on."

"Oh, Anne, my goodness," Marilla sighed. "The most dangerous place is inside your own mind. Nothing is going to happen to you. Let's go."

Anne hoped no one would notice her as they crossed the busy street. Marilla was not worried about eyes, she was worried about being trampled in the street, and she sighed a sigh or relief and said a quick prayer when they'd safely crossed.

Once in the hospital, Marilla, still holding Anne's hand, took her to the front desk. "Pardon me," she said a bit nervously. "We have an appointment with a Dr. Peter Wescott. For Anne Shirley-Cuthbert."

When they were directed where to go, Marilla had to prod Anne on ahead. "Everything will be fine," she insisted.

They waited a long time.

"I suppose in the city, there are lots of people to be seen," Anne commented when they'd been sitting a while. There were constantly people coming up and down the hallways.

"It's certainly not like home," Marilla said, thinking about how Dr. Carter came right to their house any time they needed him, and how quiet and peaceful Green Gables was.

Anne began looking around the little room. She poked at the tongue depressors and looked inside a jar of bandages.

"Anne, stop touching things," Marilla scolded her, just as the door opened and the doctor came in. Anne jumped.

"Good morning- Miss Cuthbert?" the doctor asked with a smile. "I'm Dr. Wescott. It's nice to meet you. And this must be Anne?"

The doctor smiled at her.

Anne did not smile back.

She hadn't known what to expect, but because Dr. Carter had recommended this doctor, she'd expected him to be like Dr. Carter. But he wasn't.

Dr. Carter was an older gentleman, around Matthew and Marilla's age, not very tall, with a nearly bald head that only had a bit of white hair left on it, and spectacles he put on when he worked. _This _doctor wasn't anything like that. This doctor was younger than Dr. Carter, and much taller, with a head of thick, wavy dark hair.

Anne knew that the doctor who delivered her baby could not be Dr. Carter...but she wanted him to be exactly the same as Dr. Carter, and he wasn't.

"Anne, say hello," Marilla directed when Anne didn't say a word.

Dr. Wescott smiled. "How are you finding the city, is it different than home in Avonlea?"

"You know where we live?" Anne finally asked, bluntly.

Dr. Wescott looked at Marilla. "Yes, Dr. Carter's told me all about you."

He seemed to realize there was a problem.

He asked Anne, kindly, "Well, I suppose it hardly seems fair that I know all about you; you might want to know some things about me. Do you have any questions for me? Ask me anything."

Anne looked him up and down. "How old are you?"

Marilla was embarrassed by Anne being impolite enough to ask that, but Dr. Wescott just laughed.

"I'm thirty-six," he told her.

"Did you have your suit made, or is it store-bought?"

Marilla cut in. "Anne, that _hardly _seems like an important question. Let's not waste the doctors time. We're here for a purpose."

"Oh, that's all right," Dr. Wescott said. Dr. Carter had mentioned to him that he might expect some pushback from his young patient. But before he could tell her about his suit, Anne had another question:

"Are there any doctors here who are women?" Anne asked.

Dr. Wescott shook his head. "I'm afraid not. But perhaps you'd like to meet some of our nurses. Why don't you come with me and we'll take a look around?"

Anne looked at Marilla, and then hesitantly followed Dr. Wescott out of the examining room.

In a little while, Dr. Wescott found a nurse who had a few moments free.

"Doctor, don't you have to examine her?" Marilla asked worriedly, as Anne went into the room.

Anne, hearing this, looked back at them and crossed her arms. She never let Dr. _Carter _near her stomach, she certainly wasn't going to let this stranger touch her.

"Actually, no," Dr. Wescott said to Anne, "You go on ahead and chat with the nurse."

Anne, satisfied, went into the room, leaving them to linger in the doorway.

He explained quietly to Marilla, "I thought we might just let Anne get acquainted with the hospital and ask any questions she has, for this first visit. I don't think she'll let me do a thing until she's comfortable, and I think it would be unwise for me to push her."

Marilla nodded, exhaling. He had a point.

"Have you ever had a maternity patient as young as Anne?" she asked quietly, watching Anne as the nurse showed her what was inside the cabinets.

"Unfortunately, quite a few who were only a year or two older than Anne here. It's not as uncommon as one might think. That's why Dr. Carter thought of me; I'm experienced in high-risk births- not just due to age, but due to a variety of factors- women who have other ailments that make pregnancy a risk or who've had previous births that were dangerous. I'm glad Dr. Carter directed you to us. He's a very fine doctor, but I know he wanted to seek out someone more specialized in obstetrics. Does Anne have any illnesses or concerns? Dr. Carter said she was in reasonably good health, but has anything changed?"

"No," Marilla said. "She seems to be all right." Marilla wanted to say more, but couldn't. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the whole situation.

Finally she asked, "Docter...were you _told_...about..._why_ Anne has found herself in this predicament?"

He nodded slowly. "Dr. Carter explained the situation when he first wrote to me. ...That's why I thought it best I not ask to examine her right away."

Marilla had to know: "Have you ever had a patient who, uh… You said you'd had other patients who were _young_, like Anne, but were any of _those _young patients...uh...were _they…_"

"No," he told her, shaking his head. "I've not yet had a patient expecting due to a crime being committed against her."

After a moment, he asked, "Miss Cuthbert, I couldn't help noticing her wedding ring."

Marilla sighed. "Oh, that. A friend gave it to her. She's convinced that everyone she sees will be terribly cruel to her if she isn't wearing one. I think it's ridiculous, but I won't make her take it off. She's so embarrassed."

"I'm relieved," he admitted. "I was afraid she'd been made to marry over it. I'm glad you haven't gone down that route! Perhaps I shouldn't have an opinion, but I've seen other young patients of mine pushed to marry due to their condition, and it only seems to make a bad situation worse- and _they _were marrying the boy they'd _intentionally _been with. If it doesn't work out well for them, I can't see it working out any better in Anne's case."

Marilla watched Anne across the room, who was now wearing the nurses' cap on her head and listening to her own heart with a stethoscope. "No, doctor. Others in town believed we ought to have pushed for a marriage. We wouldn't have done that to her. Besides, she's still such a child herself."

* * *

When they left, Marilla stopped at the desk to pay the bill. She hated to have the expense of a doctor's bill when they really hadn't done much of anything today, but she was grateful that the doctor had the intuition to realize Anne needed to be made familiar with the place and the people before she could allow anything to be done to her.

But the lady at the reception desk told her, "You don't have to pay at the time of service. We send bills through the mail."

"That's hardly necessary," Marilla told her. "We're staying just across the street."

"Across the street? No, that can't be right," the receptionist murmured, glancing at her paper. "We have a Mr. and Mrs. Harmon Andrews of Avonlea, P.E.I. on record as where the bills are meant to be directed to. Do we have the wrong address for you?"

"Uh...no. No, I suppose that's fine."

* * *

When they returned to the boarding house, Marilla made Anne lie down to take a little nap, because she thought her dear girl looked tired.

But Anne would not lay down until she could locate Jane's rabbit, which seemed to have disappeared. Finally Marilla found it underneath the bed.

She handed it to Anne, expecting Anne to curl up with the rabbit.

But instead, Anne laid the rabbit on top of her belly. "Here you go, here's your rabbit. I have to take a nap, so I thought you could take a nap, too, and you'll have your rabbit to cuddle with. Or you can play with it instead, if you want to. ...I suppose there isn't really much you can do with it yet, since you're still inside. But anyway- here it is, close by, if you want it."

Before dinner, Anne wrote to Gilbert, and only stopped because the papers would soon be too thick to fold into the envelope.


	60. The Second Doctor Visit

Marilla decided the next day that she ought to try to keep them on some sort of schedule so that Anne wasn't just laying around in their room losing all track of time.

Breakfast was always delivered at seven in the morning, and after eating, Anne washed and dressed for the day. Marilla thought Anne should go outdoors for a little while to get some fresh air and sunlight, before the day got too hot. There was a small patio in back of the boarding house, and it was shaded and semi private from the yard.

Marilla noticed that two of the residents of the building- a couple, the only couple there who had children- had given Anne disapproving looks and seemed to try to keep their children's attention away from her. Since the mother often brought the two little children out to the backyard to play, Marilla was glad the small patio was divided a bit from the yard, and hoped that Anne would not notice their treatment of her.

After being outside for a while, she'd bring Anne back into their room and have her work on her geometry. Anne did not like geometry any more than she had before, and so Marilla began finding books for her to read and giving her writing assignments as well. She thought that Anne must have things to keep her mind active and busy, and she wished she could make Anne feel as though she were still in school. It _did _feel like school, from about eight a.m. to noon, and Anne jokingly told Marilla that she ought to have a bell to ring once it was time to go to lunch.

Every day at noon, she and Anne would stop their school work and walk down the street to a little diner to have lunch. Marilla would have considered it an extravagance to eat out every day, but she found herself with extra money now that she was not paying rent or hospital bills, and she decided it would be good for Anne to be forced to leave the boarding house every day.

Once they returned, she made Anne lay down for about a half hour to rest.

After this, Anne spent most of the afternoon writing letters. Writing was to take up a lot of her time, because she would write long letters to Matthew- with parts for him to read aloud to Jerry, since Jerry couldn't be written to independently- as well as letters to Gilbert and his father, Emily, Diana, Ruby, Tillie, and Jane. The only people she would write to daily were Matthew and Gilbert, but all of the others would be written to at least twice a week.

Dinner was served at the same time every evening in the boarding house, and after dinner Anne went back to their room, read books, took a long soak in the tub, and then sat in bed knitting a teeny, tiny little green sweater until Marilla told her it was time to go to sleep.

On Saturday, they stuck to the same schedule Marilla had developed, but on Sunday they didn't, and they had quite the struggle with each other because Marilla had found a nearby church to attend and Anne was vehemently against any more outside contact than necessary. But Anne was relieved to find that churches in the city were much bigger than the church in Avonlea she was used to, and among the crowds, she was able to pass with little notice.

On Monday, they had their second hospital visit.

This time, Dr. Wescott was able to get Anne to let him listen with his stethoscope- eventually.

At first, she told him he could listen, but then she balked and refused.

Marilla exclaimed, "Anne, you're being silly- now, you know the doctor is just trying to help you. You started letting Dr. Carter listen, didn't you? This is no different!"

But Anne nearly cried and then Marilla just felt bad for scolding her.

Dr. Wescott had a solution:

"Why don't we do this. I'll keep the earpiece, and you take the chestpiece."

"I can do it myself?" Anne asked, wiping her eyes.

"Well...we'll give it a shot," he said. "Now, this side of the chestpiece is called the bell, and this side is called the diaphragm. We're going to put this end flat down, and then...Now, your hands can create false sounds, so we have to be sure to hold it like _this- _with your index finger here, and- yes, that's right, that will prevent those false sounds. All right- here, why don't you take this blanket, Miss Cuthbert, and you can hold it so she's covered a bit. Would that make you feel better, Anne?"

Dr. Wescott found listening to be a bit frustrating, since he did not have control over where she was putting the chestpiece, and the fact that every so often Anne's hand would create sounds. But he decided that if he could get her to be all right with doing this, it was better than nothing, and he hoped he'd be able to ease her into letting him handle the device himself the next time.

Dr. Wescott next asked about the baby moving. He wanted to know how often she was feeling it kick, and when.

Anne bit her lip. "Well...I...I have a question."

"Yes?"

"I didn't want to ask because I didn't know if it would mean...having to be touched, and I didn't want…"

The doctor nodded. "I think you ought to tell me everything you're worried about, and if there's something I need to do and you're afraid, we'll talk about it and try to figure out ways to make it less scary."

Anne's eyes filled and she looked away.

Marilla was terrified- Anne had not told _her _she had any concerns.

"The thing is...I...I've noticed that it doesn't move around as much anymore. It used to a _lot_, but the past few days it hasn't, and...and I was scared that something about traveling on the train made it...made it get hurt or something?"

Marilla's heart was thudding. She should not have dragged Anne miles and miles over railroad tracks. What had she been thinking? She should have found some doctor who could come to them, no matter _what _the cost…

But Dr. Wescott did not seem alarmed. "We're at about thirty-six weeks," he began, but Anne interrupted-

"Thirty-six weeks _tomorrow_," she told him flatly. "_Tuesdays_ are the days it turns older."

Marilla said gently, "Anne celebrates each new week of the baby's growing."

Dr. Wescott glanced at Marilla, feeling bad.

Most women- married women- could not be sure of the exact date they'd conceived their little one. But with this new little patient he had, the weeks of pregnancy could be counted from beginning to end.

"The baby sounds healthy," he told her. "Moving less is perfectly normal late in a pregnancy. At this point, there's just not as much room for moving." He smiled at her. Marilla began to breathe again.

"But if it can't move around, what if it's arms and legs start to hurt from being squished all the time?" Anne worried.

"It won't have long to be..._squished,_" Dr. Wescott said with a smile. "So don't you worry about it's arms and legs. It's all perfectly normal."

On the way back, Marilla had Anne cross the street at the other side, so they could stop at a bakery. "You need to pick out a cake for us to take home so we're ready for the baby's birthday tomorrow," she told her kindly.

Anne did not yet know this, but there would only be one more cake after this one.


	61. Desperation

Anne's dr appointments suck. Even though I did not get pregnant from the assault, I can still write from experience a little bit because having to go to the dr - even just for a regular visit, let alone anything invasive - is just so horrible because you just dont want anyone near you. I'd go for long times knowing I was sick but refusing to go to the dr, preferring just to stay sick, because I was afraid to go let anyone touch me. I've been that way up until just last year. I guess I cant speak for anyone else, but thats how I felt and still do. So Anne feels that too.

* * *

Two days later, they were back at the hospital for the next appointment.

Anne had a new worry. She had been quiet while getting ready in the morning, her face white and her eyes large and watery. Marilla had asked her what was wrong, but she could hardly get two words out of Anne, so she knew something was very wrong. She was glad that Anne's appointment was first thing in the morning.

Once Dr. Wescott came into the room, Anne burst into tears.

"Oh, Anne," Marilla said, feeling tears spring into her own eyes. "What is it?" She turned to the doctor. "She wasn't up more than a few minutes this morning before she acted as if something was wrong. She wouldn't eat her breakfast, and I couldn't get her to talk at all."

"Something _is _wrong," Anne sobbed. Then she said, "I have to use the privy."

"Is that all?" Marilla asked.

"No, that's not all," Anne cried. "But I have to use it. I have to use it _now_. I feel like I have to go _all _the time!"

"Miss Cuthbert, why don't you take her down the hall. I'll wait."

Marilla tried to ask Anne what was wrong as they made their way down the hall, but Anne only cried. Marilla felt her heart thudding in her ears.

Once in the room, Anne still could not tell the doctor what was wrong.

"Anne, stop crying now, you _must _tell the doctor what's happened!" Marilla tried to convince her.

"I _caaaan't," _Anne wailed.

"Why not?" Dr. Wescott asked.

"Because then you'll have to do something," Anne cried. "And I don't want you to!"

"But why don't you tell me what it _is_, first," Dr. Wescott coaxed. "Maybe it's something we can just talk about? ...Remember last time- you were worried about the baby not kicking, and _that_ ended up being just fine, didn't it?"

Anne sat crying for another brief moment and then started to calm herself, as if thinking about this.

Finally she said, "My belly...it feels different, like its _moved- _and I don't mean the baby moved around like _kicking- _I mean like my _whole _belly feels like its moved somehow and I don't know why."

Really, Dr. Wescott thought, he wasn't doing his job if he _never _touched her. He needed to feel her belly- he should have felt it the previous two visits, too- but he couldn't. He'd have to convince her.

"Would you let me feel the baby?" he asked gently.

He phrased it that way on purpose- thinking that if he phrased it as 'feeling the _baby'_, she wouldn't feel as though he was trying to touch _her_.

Anne wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't want to," she said, upset. "But I _do _want you to, because I'm scared, but I _don't _want you to, _too…_" she started to cry again.

"I'm sure it won't take long, Anne," Marilla said. "You've just got to get through it, is all. You must."

"Are you worried it's going to hurt if it's touched?" he asked. "It won't."

Anne shook her head and wiped her eyes.

"Would I have to get my dress off?"

"Not all the way. Other than your belly, you'll be all covered up."

"I don't want to," she said.

"I could see if I can feel it without you taking it off. That might work, if you'll let me try. If the material on your dress isn't too thick, and if you don't have too many layers on, then I might be able to feel it."

"I don't think you'll be able to," Anne worried.

The doctor had an idea. He went to get a sheet. "Why don't we do this. You don't need to get your dress off. You can pull it up, and we'll put this sheet on you. That way I'll be touching the sheet instead of your skin. Could we try that?"

Anne hesitated a long time, and finally whispered, "All right."

Dr. Wescott felt her belly.

"_Marillaaa_," Anne whimpered, turning to her. Marilla reached out and stroked her hair until the doctor was finished.

Dr. Wescott wanted to be quick, for Anne's sake, but instead he took his time, because he worried that this might be the only time he could get her to allow it, and if he was never allowed to feel it again, he needed to make sure he felt it thoroughly.

"Well," he began when he was finished. "First of all, nothing is wrong, so you needn't worry."

Marilla felt her heart could not take much more of this.

"The reason your belly feels different is that the baby has turned downward."

"Oh," Anne said, wiping her eyes. "It fell over? Can you turn it rightside up again?"

"No," Dr. Wescott said with a smile. "It meant to do that. It's going to be head downward now, instead of upward. Babies do that toward the end- it's part of getting ready to be born."

"Is it going to be born _now?" _Anne asked, her eyes big.

"No, not right this minute. But soon. Have you ever seen a diagram of what it looks like while it's inside?"

Marilla spoke up, "I ordered some books, but she refused to look at them."

"Let's look at one now, then," Dr. Wescott said gently. He opened a volume from his cabinet. "This is what the baby looked like when it was turned upward," he said, pointing. 'And this is what it looks like now that it's facing downward."

"Are you sure you can't put it back how it was?" Anne asked, worried. "It looks like it's uncomfortable that way, like it's standing on its head. Have _you_ ever stood on your head, Dr. Wescott?"

"No, I can't say I have," he said with a smile.

"Then you don't know how it _feels_ to stand on your head! _I've_ stood on my head lots of times. At _first_ it's very interesting, to see what the world looks like when it's upside down. But if you do it for more than a minute or two, all your blood rushes to your head, and it's very uncomfortable...We better push the baby back over the way it was!"

He smiled, amused. "It's doing exactly what it wants to be doing right now. Soon it'll be ready to come out, and that's the way it needs to be facing to do that."

"So it's going to be soon, then," Anne admitted with a weary sigh. "How long do I have?"

"I can't tell you exactly," he said. "We can check to see how dilated your cervix is. But I don't think we need to do that yet."

"Anne doesn't know what a cervix is," Marilla pointed out. "She wouldn't listen when I tried to tell her these things."

"Let's look at this some more, then," he said kindly. He pointed out various things to her, and Marilla was glad Anne was finally looking at a book to know what was happening in her body.

The doctor explained what he meant about the cervix dilating.

"Isn't there a _different _way to get the baby out?" Anne asked miserably. "Couldn't I- couldn't I sort of throw it up, the way you do when you've eaten something bad? Oh...I forgot, it isn't really in my _stomach_, is it- it's-it's only _pretending _to be in my stomach."

Dr. Wescott couldn't help laughing a little bit. Then he said, "Sometimes women have to have something called a cesarean section, but that's something more risky and we don't want to do that unless there's danger. This really is the most natural way."

"But I don't want to be _looked _at," Anne exclaimed, near tears once again. "I wish I could just have it by myself, with nobody there!"

Marilla said, "Anne, _do _be sensible; you cannot deliver a baby on your own!"

But her words only made Anne more upset, and softer now, she touched Anne's cheek, saying, "I do feel for you, dear, and I thought you might do better with a midwife, but I'm _afraid _for us to rely on that, what with potential complications. Dr. Wescott here is our best bet. He'll do a good job and he'll keep you _safe_."

Dr. Wescott smiled. "I've delivered babies for a long time now, Anne, and I _promise _you, when a doctor delivers a baby, it really _is _just the baby we're focused on- we don't have any interest in looking at you in an improper way."

Anne sighed unhappily. There was nothing she could do.

Later that day, Anne lay in the bathtub, thinking of the baby that was soon to arrive, and she began to panic. She stared at her belly, and she began to feel she was being conspired against. She had gotten used to feeling the baby inside her. She thought it was sort of nice to know she was never alone. She had even started to like when it poked at her, because she felt that it wanted to talk to her and be her friend. But now it had stopped talking to her, and without even telling her, it had turned itself over and began doing the dreadful thing of planning it's escape.

"_Marilla!"_ she cried suddenly.

Marilla nearly fell into the bath tub, she ran through the door so fast.

"What is it?" she panted.

"Marilla, I don't _want _to keep the baby," Anne said, sounding miserable. "I don't want to keep it _at all._ Do I have to? ...You said before I didn't have to."

Marilla looked at herself in the mirror that was directly in front of her. "Anne, I would like for us both to survive this pregnancy. You will be just fine. I, on the other hand, will not. If you keep shouting out in a panic when nothing has actually happened yet, my heart will give out and then you'll be on your own!"

"I'm sorry," Anne said meekly, reaching for her towel and wrapping it around herself. "But do I have to? You told me-"

"Yes, yes, I know what I told you."

"Then can't I?"

"I just don't like the idea of you making decisions- permanent, _lasting _decisions- when you really don't know how you'll feel about it once it gets here."

"I'm sure of what I'll feel about!" Anne insisted. "I don't want it! I _know _I don't! Marilla, why can't we at least _look _for someone? It...it doesn't mean we _have _to give it to them, does it? If I change my mind?"

Anne started to get out of the tub. Marilla noticed the towel that she'd wrapped around herself was not one Marilla had packed, but was one of the boarding house towels.

"Oh, Anne, I hate for you to use their towels. Use the ones I brought for you, please. I don't like the idea of all the boarding house laundry going into the same wash- that towel could have been used by every person in this building."

"But it's been washed, Marilla."

"Well, still," Marilla said. "And the soap! Dear, you must be careful getting in and out of the tub! You've left the bar of soap on the floor and you could have slipped on it!"

Anne stepped carefully around the bar of soap.

Marilla went on, "Anyway, about the baby. You are right- if we find someone, and they agree take it from us, it doesn't mean you're _obligated _to give it to them once it's here. You can certainly change your mind and keep it. But I hate to involve others because…" Marilla spoke slowly. "If we find someone nice...someone who wants a baby _very _badly...and would be over the moon with happiness at having yours...and we meet them, and you decide that you like them very much, and you _want _them to have the baby…"

"I know, they'd be disappointed if I changed my mind," Anne said with a sigh.

"Yes, they would be, but that's not my concern. My concern is how you'll feel _about _their disappointment."

"What do you mean?"

"You may feel as though you _should _give it to them because you've _already_ gotten them excited about getting to keep it...as if you somehow _owe _them your baby, just because they've been so _nice _to you and expressed such a desire to _have _it."

Anne thought about this.

"I think you're very young and you want people to be happy, and it might be easy for someone to convince you that you aren't right to keep it when there's some married couple who wants it."

"All right," Anne said. "I promise, if I change my mind, I won't give it up. But I _know _I won't change my mind. I just know I won't. Now, please, _can't _we look? Maybe that church we went to, maybe the reverend knows of some couple who wants a baby there- can't we just _ask?"_

"I suppose," Marilla said with a sigh.

* * *

As promised, Marilla inquired at the church they'd been to the previous Sunday. The reverend said he would ask around, but that he knew of no couple who wanted a baby- that, in fact, most had more than they wanted as it was.

Marilla went to two other churches, and got similar answers, but left her name and the boarding house address.

When Anne became upset that there might be no one to take it, Marilla reluctantly suggested that they could look into children's homes.

She did not expect Anne to be favorable to this idea, but Anne said only,

"Good."


	62. Finding a Place

A couple days later, Gilbert received a letter from Anne, and before he even had a chance to mail a reply, he received two more in quick succession.

* * *

Dear Gilbert,

No news yet. I just came back from the doctor. He says it really could be any day now. I'm scared, but there's nothing I can do except pray.

I gave up my school work and took to knitting. I used to do school work in the mornings and only knit in the evenings before bed, but I need it to keep my hands busy, and math seems further and further away from the life I'm living now. I hope it won't always be that way. I don't like geometry, but I felt such accomplishment from learning it. I'm trying to feel that same way about my knitting, but I don't so far. I've gotten quite a lot done, though. I finished a little green sweater yesterday. All I'm doing is knitting, really, so it's coming along faster and faster. Marilla's gotten me five colors to work with, and my yarn is already running low.

I've been sewing a little bit, but not much. Knitting has become almost relaxing; sewing feels like work. Marilla's still sewing, though. I did work on another dress this week, but Marilla had to sew on the buttons for me. I can't seem to do buttons.

We're looking for someone to take the baby once it's been born. I haven't gone out to do that, because it's so close to the time- not that I want anyone to look at me, anyway- but yesterday Marilla went to see an orphan's home in the country. She said she went in without any expectations, but that she was pleasantly surprised: the home was a lot different than the one I was in- the children seem happy and healthy, no one was thin and they all had good clothes and they even had a room with books and toys in it. I suppose it might work, if we can't find a family. I hate to leave it an orphan, though. I told Marilla this and she told me that _she _didn't want to put it in an orphan's home, either, but she said that if I really don't want to bring the baby home with us, then I must look into other options. I suppose she's right. Anyway, I guess it isn't a bad place to leave it, if we can't find a family. I still have the money from the Andrews, so I can at least make a donation to the home to help them.

I wish I had someone wonderful to leave it with, but I don't know anyone wonderful. All the wonderful people I know are back home in Avonlea. ...I wish I could be home with you right now, Gil. You're wonderful too, and I miss you.

Love, Anne

* * *

Dear Gilbert,

Nothing's happened yet. I know that's the first thing you'll wonder. I'm still just here, in my room in the boarding house, sitting by the window and looking out at the street in front of us. There's a vendor selling lemon ices, and Marilla's gone out to get me one. I'm waving to her from the window. I've never had a lemon ice before, but I think it sounds wonderful. I wish you were here, but no, you can't visit. Stay home with your father. I was so relieved when you told me he had started eating a little again.

Marilla went to see a lady yesterday who might have taken the baby. Someone in the boarding house mentioned her, so Marilla went to see her. She's taken in orphans in the past, and is known to be kind, and an upstanding sort of person. But Marilla came back and said that, no, it wouldn't be a good placement. She told me that when she went to see her, she was surprised to find that the lady was at least her own age, and all the other orphans the lady took in were much older now- at least 12 and 15. She hasn't taken in a baby in several years. Marilla said she seemed very loving, but she did not think a lady of such advanced age ought to be taking in an infant- what if something happened to her? So we're still without a find.

We can't give up, though. I feel such pressure to find someone quickly, seeing as we don't have long now. But Marilla says I shouldn't feel worried, and I mustn't rush.

She says even after the baby's been born, Dr. Wescott doesn't want me up and about for a month- so it isn't as if we can come home any time soon, anyway. She says we'll keep looking, we'll find someone eventually, and it's alright if we don't find someone right away. I asked her what we would do if it was time to come home and we still hadn't found anyone, and she said we'd just bring it home with us and keep looking. She said it won't matter when we find a home, as long as we find a good one.

Well, Marilla's back with the lemon ice. I'll talk to you soon. I love you.

Anne

* * *

Dear Gilbert,

Marilla found a family who will take the baby. I'm so glad. She likes them because they have good manners and they go to church. I like them because they're willing to take the baby.

They live in a pretty house in the country, with gardens all around it. They have three children of their own, and can't have another- their youngest is five years old now, and they've never had any new little ones since, but they very much wanted to have a big family. So when Marilla learned of them, and visited, they seemed delighted to be offered a baby. She came home and told me, and I felt such relief.

Marilla says I must meet them myself before we can decide. I'm supposed to go visit tomorrow. I'm _so_ glad to know this will all be settled.

-Anne

* * *

Gilbert sighed. Anne had to make her own decision, of course, and he hadn't any right to interfere, but he wished she'd at least let him meet it before she sent it away. He did not tell his father about her plans. He didn't have the heart to.


	63. Emptiness

Gilbert,

They don't want my baby.

-Anne


	64. Fear

Anne was crying over her knitting. Marilla came and sat down next to her, bringing her arm around her to hold her close. She moved Anne's knitting needles and little booties out of the way.

"Anne, whatever is the matter?" she asked.

"I don't want to _diiie,_" she cried.

"Die? You're not going to die," Marilla said with surprise.

"Yes, I _am!_" Anne wailed. "People die when they have babies!"

"No, they don't-"

"Gilbert's mother did," Anne said, sniffling.

"_My_ mother didn't. And _your_ mother didn't. And Diana's mother, and Jane's, and Ruby's…and Emily didn't, either, did she? I know sometimes people do, but you mustn't make it out to be worse than it is."

"But _I'm_ going to die. And it isn't _fair_. I've only had fourteen years, Marilla! Fourteen years," Anne said, crying harder.

Marilla told her, "You won't die, and you mustn't even _think_ such a thought. Put it right out of your head."

That did not help Anne.

"Marilla, what happens to a baby if it dies while it's being born?" Anne finally asked, wiping her eyes.

"It goes to heaven," Marilla answered promptly. "Oh, you poor dear- are you worried about the baby dying? You mustn't, it'll be-"

"No, I'm not," Anne said. "Not if it just goes to heaven anyway. Then that's fine…it'll like being there better than it would like it here."

"What a dreadful thing to say," remarked Marilla with surprise.

"It's dreadful to say that heaven is better than here?"

Marilla shook her head. "That isn't what I meant," she explained. "Now, let's not have all this talk of dying. No one is going to die."

"_I_ will. I just _know_ it. I'm going to die, and now what are we going to _do_\- I haven't got _anyone_ to take the baby!"

"Yes, you _do _have someone to take the baby. You have Matthew and I. ...Now it's _your_ decision about someone else taking it. But Matthew and I wouldn't want your baby to go anywhere else but home to _us."_

* * *

"Doctor," Marilla began, "I am well aware of the dangers of Anne's delivery. But I don't want to worry her…"

"Of course not," Dr. Wescott nodded in agreement.

"Only she _is_ worried, and I can't seem to do anything to keep her from it," Marilla went on, "If I _agree_ with her that there _are_ many risks, that isn't doing anything to ease her fears, but when I try to reassure her that she'll be all right, she doesn't believe me and gets even more upset."

"May I talk to her?" he asked.

"Of course...her next appointment is the day after tomorrow, and..."

"If it's all right with you, I'll just stop by and speak to her when I'm off work this evening," he said kindly. "I hate for her to go another night with such fears."

Marilla was touched. "Thank you, doctor. And thank you for not minding me dropping by like this."

* * *

That evening Dr. Wescott arrived after dinner. He sat down in the chair closest to Anne, and pulled it up to the couch to be nearer to her. "Miss Cuthbert tells me you're having some fears about your safety during the upcoming delivery."

"Y-yes," Anne answered shakily.

"I thought you and I ought to talk about that."

"All right," Anne answered, afraid of whatever he might say.

"I've delivered lots of babies in my time as a physician, you know, and-"

"Don't tell me there's no reason to worry!" Anne interrupted passionately. "I _know_ what can happen! I _know! _Everyone keeps telling me nothing's going to happen to me!"

Dr. Wescott answered kindly, _"I'm_ not going to do that- I won't tell you nothing will happen to you. …I thought we could talk about some of the things that _can_ happen during delivery, and what a doctor can do to try to overcome those obstacles."

Anne took a shaky breath.

"One complication that can happen is that a baby sometimes isn't in a deliverable position. We call that 'breech'. But when I felt your belly, the baby was in the right position. So that's one less risk right there."

"But if it moved before, couldn't it move again?" Anne worried.

"It is possible to move the baby while it's still inside. I've done it before."

"All right," Anne whispered.

"Another problem during a baby coming is that some women have a narrow or deformed pelvis, caused by rickets."

Anne listened worriedly.

"But you don't seem to have rickets: your legs aren't bowed and your spine isn't abnormally curved, and you don't have a large abdomen- at least, you didn't before the baby made itself known," he said with a smile. "So I don't think we'll have to worry about that one, either."

Anne nodded, letting go of a shaky breath.

"There's also bed fever. Two, maybe three days after birth, the mother can become fevered. But I'll tell you, Anne, about forty years ago a man named Ignaz Semmelweis made a connection between inflammation and the washing of hands. It's a morbid thing, but he was doing an autopsy when he noticed the symptoms of child bed fever were also present in the corpse, which was a man. He found out that infectious substances were carried on the hands of the doctors, and spread from one patient to another."

"_I_ didn't know that," Anne said. "If it was forty years ago, why don't more people know?"

"It _was_ about forty years ago, but his book was published, oh, maybe twenty-five years ago? And his ideas weren't looked upon very highly, unfortunately."

"Why not?" Anne asked.

"A lot of doctors felt they were being insulted by him. They did not consider their long-standing practices to be of any threat to new mothers. Many of them said indignantly that their hands were not unclean, because they were gentlemen. Anne, I think that's just foolish- if something as simple as washing my hands might lead to a more positive outcome, then why not do it, and not take a risk?"

"So you think there won't be all that inflamma- what did you call it?"

"Bed fever," Dr. Wescott told her. "Yes, if I follow Semmelweis, and I _believe_ him, Anne, then a good thorough wash ought to significantly reduce that risk."

"You _really_ think so? Honestly?" Anne asked, sounding fearful.

"I do."

"And you promise you'll wash before it? And I won't get it?" Anne's voice was full of fragile hope.

"You have my word. I will wash before we start anything, and I can wash again any time I have the opportunity. I'll keep soap and clean towels with us, and I'll have the nurse change the water each and every time. You're going to be just fine. I'm glad you're talking about it. You ought to tell me when you're worried. It does no good to keep it all bottled up."

Anne nodded.


	65. Letters to Gilbert

Gil,

I'm sure you have questions. I hadn't the heart to write.

We visited them, and they were very kind to me. They understood the situation- a young girl, unmarried, with a baby- of course I wanted to find someone to discreetly take the baby away, so I can go back home and resume with life.

So I looked at their house and saw their other children and the gardens and all. We went home. I thought all was settled!

When Marilla and I came back to the boarding house after the visit, I took a nap, and felt so rested. Everything was falling into place.

Marilla got a letter from them in the morning, and she wrote back. But then when she received a letter from them _again_, her face changed and she quickly put the letter away.

She told me that the family had gotten some bad news financially and had decided a baby would be too much expense to take on right now. I reminded her that we had money from the Andrews, and since this family seemed ideal, we ought to pass the baby's money along to them, since they'll be the ones raising it- having the money to bring the child up seemed fair.

But Marilla said that wouldn't do, they couldn't take it, and not to ask about them again. She seemed angry. I waited until she went out- she walked down the street to the bakery to buy a cake, I don't want to walk much anymore; I'm too uncomfortable now- and then I searched her things until I found the letter.

They _aren't_ having any trouble with finances, Gil. They don't want the baby because of who it's mother and father are.

Listen to this, Gilbert, I'll copy it out for you:

_While your daughter seems lovely, we were a tad hesitant, because of her unknown background. Orphans could come from any sort of stock, you know- thieves and murderers and such, and it's a risk to take on! You've been so lucky in finding your Anne, she does seem to be very dear, and you're blessed to have her. But, Miss Cuthbert, when we inquired about the young man who fathered the baby, we assumed it was simply a bad decision she had made with some neighboring boy; that they'd taken a fancy to each other and indulged in what they shouldn't have. When you said that the baby was not the result of some youthful love affair, but was instead the result of a brutality...Miss Cuthbert, the mother's unknown background gave us slight pause, but to know without a doubt that the baby's father was a criminal with violent prurient tendencies? I regret to say that this is simply too much, and we can no longer bring the baby into our home to raise alongside our own, for fear of inborn criminalistic traits coming out and tainting the fabric of our own family. We are terribly sorry and do wish things had been different. Best of luck in your search._

...So I suppose that's that, then.

Anne

* * *

Anne darling,

I don't know what to say. Only that I love you, and there's nothing wrong with you or the baby. Forget them, they don't deserve a piece of you. Bring the baby home with you. We'll find better people on the island than off.

-Gil

* * *

Gilbert,

I suppose I'll _have _to bring it home. No one's been willing to take it so far.

I love you.

* * *

Anne,

Well, I think it's for the best if you don't leave it right away, anyway. I think right after a baby's been born it's just too young to be away from its mother yet. Maybe you ought to let the baby get a bit bigger before it goes off to its own home? Do you think you could do that? I know it won't be easy to let it stay with you. But you'll know it's treated right while it's still so new, and it can have time to gain some weight and get stronger. And then when you find a new home for it, it will be in a healthier position to go.

And if you plan for that, then you won't have to worry about finding someone to take it yet- you can just rest.

I love you.

* * *

Gil,

Maybe you're right. Maybe I should let it stay here in this room with me for the month or so that we'll have to stay. When we come home, we'll have to bring it with us...but we'll probably find someone closer to home, and they can take it. It won't be a newborn anymore, and it won't be so fragile. I think you're right.

The stress of trying to find someone is just getting to be too much for me.

I'll stop thinking about it for a while.

I love you.

* * *

Anne darling,

I'm glad you can stop looking and just _rest_. You don't need any more stress right now.

I'll try to figure out how I can help, while you're there. I'll ask around and see if I can find anyone that could take it in, since that's what you want.

I love you.

-Gil

* * *

Gil,

Yesterday I had some contractions. The doctor said that's what they were. I'm really scared.

But don't come here.

I love you.

* * *

Anne,

I love you.

Please tell me how you are, as soon as you can.

I love you. …I know I already said it.

* * *

Gil,

I think it's going to be soon. I love you. I'm so scared. Please know I love you so much. So, so much. Thank you for the way you've always been there for me.

If something bad happens, Marilla will bring your mother's ring back to you.

* * *

Gilbert exhaled, not believing she was thinking about the ring. He shook his head. Nothing was going to happen to her. It _couldn't_.

And if it did, she may as well be buried with that ring on her finger, because he'd never give it to anyone else.

He wrote,

Anne darling,

You're going to be just fine. Don't be scared. Everything's going to be all right. I love you. Everyone loves you. Dr. Wescott's a good doctor, everyone says so, and the hospital's just across the street. This will all be over soon and you'll be good as new, on your way home to me, and we'll be together again. I love you.

Gil

Before he sealed the letter, he kissed it.

* * *

The next time Gilbert received a letter, the address on the envelope was written in Miss Cuthbert's handwriting instead of in Anne's.


	66. Labor (Warning: Complications)

Marilla's letters to Matthew were frequent. He'd planned to come twice, but hadn't come either time because of Gilbert's father.

Anne had told Matthew that if Gilbert needed him, she did not want Matthew to come to her.

_**I**__ can't be with him now, Matthew,_ Anne had written. _I'd feel better if you could take __**my **__place and be with Gilbert yourself. _

Matthew had stated he was coming anyway- he had to come see her, but Anne had responded:

_I'd never forgive myself if you were here visiting me while something happened to leave Gilbert all alone…_

But nothing had happened to leave Gilbert all alone.

Dr. Carter could not understand it. He had never seen someone so close to death's door but straining so hard to cling to life.

_He's hanging on for something, _he'd confided in Matthew. _I don't know how._

* * *

Once a letter came that Anne was having contractions, Rachel was on the very next train. Marilla was surprised to find Rachel, unannounced, at their boarding house door with luggage in hand.

"I came as soon as you wrote. The men can fend for themselves. I thought you needed my expertise."

Marilla wasn't sure whether to be touched or amused.

As she let Rachel in, she said, "I'm not sure where to _put _you, Rachel."

"I'll do just fine on the sofa," Rachel said matter-of-factly. "My, Marilla, you spared no expense in getting this room, did you?"

Marilla was uncomfortable. She whispered, "We- we had...help."

Rachel understood immediately.

"Where is Anne?" she wanted to know. "Has she been admitted yet?"

"No, the contractions were irregular yesterday and the day before. It's only today they've been regular, but they're still far apart enough that they said we don't need to bring her in yet. I don't know, though. I'd have felt better if she was admitted from the very first one, but Dr. Wescott said Anne would be more comfortable resting here than lying in a hospital bed until it's closer to the time. She's in there now, in bed."

"How is she?"

"Frightened," Marilla said honestly. "She's being a good little soldier, though. I do wish she could be up doing things, because being active would help to keep her mind off it, but he wants her to stay in bed, so of course she must. He says she needs all the rest she can get beforehand."

"That's the truth," Rachel said. "They don't call it _labor _for nothing."

Rachel put her things down next to the sofa and began poking around, nosy as ever, even in an emergency. Marilla couldn't help smiling.

* * *

Marilla had to keep track of how far apart the contractions were. Once it was time to go, Marilla felt herself panicking, but worked to keep a calm exterior, knowing she had to be steady so that Anne would not become even more frightened.

"Marilla, can't we wait and go _later?"_ Anne begged. She knew she was being unreasonable, but in her mind, if they weren't going to the hospital yet, then she wasn't having the baby yet.

"The doctor told us how many minutes apart they should be when we bring you in. And we're supposed to take you in between contractions so you're not in transit when one comes."

Rachel carried Anne's bag, and locked the door behind them. Marilla went to the front desk to retrieve the wicker wheelchair the hospital had lent them.

"She's supposed to be fine walking," Marilla told Rachel, "But I was worried about it, so the hospital sent me home with this."

Anne did not want to be wheeled out where anyone could see her. "Maybe I won't have any more contractions...maybe it was just indigestion...or maybe the baby changed its mind and it doesn't want to come out now after all."

"Anne, now I know you're frightened," Rachel said. "But I've been through this many, many times, and I've always been just fine, haven't I? There's nothing for you to worry about."

Anne wanted Mrs. Lynde to go away and leave her alone.

* * *

Once in the hospital, Marilla said at the desk, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "I have Anne Shirley-Cuthbert here. Dr. Wescott is her physician."

A nurse came to meet them in the lobby and take them upstairs.

When another contraction came- and then another one so quickly after it- Anne felt frightened by the decreased distance between them, and it was only in her panic that Marilla was able to convince her to move out of the wheelchair and onto the bed.

Once she was on it, though, she began to cry at what would have to happen next. It was no longer possible for Anne to avoid Dr. Wescott intruding upon her.

"Anne," he said gently. "I don't want to frighten you, but I'm going to have to feel where we are in the process."

"What do you mean, _feel?"_ Anne asked, her voice rising.

"Do you remember when I showed you that diagram and explained where your cervix is? We need to know if-"

"No!" Anne cried. "That's...inside!"

Dr. Wescott glanced at Marilla. Then he asked Anne, "Would you like the nurse to be the one to do it? I'll have to look eventually, but the nurse could be the one to check your cervix up until we know it's time."

"No!" Anne nearly shouted. "I don't _want _her! I don't even _know _her!"

"One of them will have to, Anne," Marilla said calmly.

"No, I don't want _anyone!_ Marilla, _make _everyone go _away!" _Anne cried.

Marilla felt like crying herself. She hated to put Anne through this, but they had no choice. "You'll have to choose one, dear," she murmured, smoothing Anne's hair.

Anne thought a moment. There were _no _good options. But Dr. Wescott hadn't done anything to hurt her, and she did not know the nurse. She wasn't the same nurse who'd been there at her other appointments. Finally she said, "I don't want the nurse looking. ...Don't let her look."

Dr. Wescott assured her that no one was going to look, because the sheet over her would hide everything, and that he himself was only there to do a job; she would not be looked at in any improper way.

But that did not make it any easier to get through. It was the second time she had been invaded against her will, and in her mind, the fact that it was a doctor touching her for a medical purpose- who had been kind to her, and was clearly trying to be as careful as he could not to hurt her- did not make it _any _different from the first time.

* * *

Anne was already pushing. She didn't even realize she was pushing, but she felt she _must_ push and the feeling was strong.

But Dr. Wescott said, "Don't push yet- it's not time."

Marilla was confused. "I thought she _had _to push. ...You have to _push_, don't you?" She turned to Rachel with the question.

Dr. Wescott explained, "She's not dilated enough yet."

"I don't know what that means!" Anne shouted. She was not angry, she was afraid, and this time it came out as anger.

"Calm yourself, Anne, it's not good for-"

"Don't tell me to calm myself, Marilla! You don't _know-_"

"Anne, listen to me- what it means-" Dr. Wescott interrupted, getting Anne's attention- "When the baby is getting ready to be born, your cervix has to dilate- that means it has to start opening. You _are _dilated, but you're not _ready _to start pushing yet. There must be enough room for the baby's head, and there isn't yet."

"What do I have to do?" Anne cried.

Dr. Wescott patted her reassuringly. "You don't have to do anything. You must wait until you're dilated more, give it some time. Don't push."

"But I feel like I _need _to," Anne told him.

"I know, but wait. I'll tell you when it's time to start pushing-"

"I have to _now_," Anne said. She did not know why, but the sensation was strong and she could feel herself pushing without really even meaning to.

Rachel sat down by Anne. "Dr. Wescott is right. If you aren't dilated enough yet, then-"

Anne looked angry. "You weren't _looking_, were you?"

Dr. Wescott answered, "No one is looking, Anne. No one but me. I've got this sheet over you and you're quite hidden, I give you my word."

Anne calmed down.

Rachel patted Anne. "But Dr. Wescott is right. There must be room, and if he says there isn't, then you mustn't push yet. There isn't any point to it, and you'll tire yourself out."

Anne was pushing anyway. She felt such an urge to.

Dr. Wescott said again, "Anne, slow down. Try to relax for a bit. There's no need to work yet. Labor is a long process, save your energy for when it's needed."

* * *

Once it came time to push, Anne did not want to.

Dr. Wescott was telling Anne to push, but Anne was not pushing. She was crying.

"I don't want to do this." The words were choked out as Anne's tears streamed down. She clutched at Marilla's dress, knuckles white. "I _can't_, please-"

Dr. Wescott glanced at Marilla.

Marilla got down on the bed next to her to comfort her, but her own hands were shaking as she held Anne's. "It's all right," she tried to say steadily. "It will be over soon."

"No, I can't, I _can't-"_

Marilla held her closer and wiped her darling girl's forehead, damp with sweat.

Anne's cries turned to sobs, and she heaved. Rachel tried to get Anne to snap out of it, saying sharply, "Anne, you must stop crying! You need to breath. Breath! Come on, now-"

Anne rolled her head into Marilla's arms.

Dr. Wescott shook his head. "She needs to push now. Anne, you can_-_"

Rachel pulled at Anne and made her sit up straight. "Try to take deep breaths. Try not to cry. You need air." But Anne could not breath because she was crying too hard.

Dr. Wescott's voice was calm: "I need you to push, Anne. The time has come to push."

Marilla was whispering things Anne could not hear, but they were meant not for Anne's ears but for God's.

Rachel snapped at Anne again, and Marilla finally pushed Anne up off of her. "Anne, listen to _me_," Marilla said in a voice both quiet and strong. "Rachel has ten children. She got through it every time. And you will too. You just have to do it _once_, darling. Just _once_. You can do it. I know you can."

"I _can't,_" Anne cried. She began to cry harder. "I want it to _stop..."_

"You're strong," Marilla said to her quietly. "_So_ strong. Now you must be brave, _too_. Take a deep breath and start listening to us."

Anne finally looked at Marilla.

"That's it, darling. Listen to us."

Anne took a shaky breath.

"You want it to be _over _with, don't you?"

Anne nodded, breathing, finally.

"The doctor will help you get this over with. He wants you to push now."

Dr. Wescott looked kindly at Anne. "Try for me, Anne. Give me a good push."

Anne took a breath and seemed to hold it before she could push. Her face strained with misery as she did.

She gasped and began crying again.

Labor seemed to go on and _on_, and Marilla wondered when it would ever end.

She did not know how long they were in that room, and she did not know how Anne could get through it.

* * *

_Anne had not known that once she was in the throes of labor, she would lose all touch with the world._

_She heard moans she did not know were coming from her own mouth._

_Marilla bathed her forehead in cold water, but Anne did not know that Marilla was there._

_She was aware of nothing but pain._

* * *

When the baby was finally delivered, there were no tears of joy, no excited cries of _"It's a..."_ to announce its gender. Dr. Wescott had the nurse hurriedly take the baby away.

Anne was coming in and out of the world, lost between the hospital and some cloudy place beyond her imagination.

She _heard _Mrs. Lynde's voice, alarmed, but was unaware of what she was saying.

"Doctor, isn't there too much _blood?"_ Rachel Lynde asked, her voice rising in panic. "_There shouldn't be this much!_"

Anne was vaguely aware of Marilla nearly stumbling into Rachel as she repeated, "She's losing too much blood!"

Dr. Wescott did not answer them; his eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth set in a firm line.

Anne moaned as he worked.

He barked at the nurse to bring more towels, and Anne felt startled back to the present when Marilla lifted her slightly for the nurse to scoot a hot towel underneath her.

The blood soaked towels were hurriedly taken away.

Anne was pale and limp, and she could not feel her legs at all until the heat hit them, and suddenly her eyelids fluttered and she whispered faintly: "_Marilla-"_

"It's all right, it's all right," Marilla choked, her heart thudding. "Doctor's helping you, dear."

_"It hurts..."_ Anne said, her voice faint.

"I know," Marilla whispered. "I know."

"Won't she get an infection?" Rachel whispered to the doctor, frantic. "Won't she-"

Dr. Wescott did not answer Rachel, and Rachel almost shouted at him before Marilla silenced her by saying sharply, "Let the man work!" Rachel stopped, startled at how frightened Marilla sounded. They stared at each other's eyes for a moment that felt like an eternity.

_"Marilla…_" Anne said again, her voice faint.

Anne could hear her baby's cries, but she showed no reaction to them. She lay motionless and deathly white, with Marilla trembling beside her.


	67. Anne's Baby

Before reading please remember I said it is going to be a while before Anne feels she can actually bond with this baby, so this chapter is actually pretty sad : ( Just know that it will take time for her and eventually things will be different.

.

.

* * *

Anne lay exhausted, trying to find some strength left inside her, but she had used it all up.

She struggled to keep her eyelids open, yet at the same time she felt that she could not relax, not only due to the intense pain she was still in, but because the lights felt too bright, the hospital felt too noisy, and she could still hear that baby- she could not connect that it was _hers- _squalling in the next room.

She tried to speak, though it felt that even that was too taxing. "I heard the nurse say the doctor had to give me stitches. Did he, Marilla?"

Marilla nodded.

"Why?"

"Well...you had some tearing. It's nothing you need to fret over now."

"Why?" Anne asked, starting to cry. "Why did I have it?"

"Because darling, that's just something that happens sometimes. It's a lot of work to give birth, and sometimes things have to stretch so much that they tear a little bit while the baby is coming through."

"I didn't know about that," Anne said, on the verge of tears.

Marilla tried to reassure her. "It's over with now, Anne. You're going to heal up. The doctor knew what to do when it happened, and everything's going to be just fine."

"Marilla," Anne said, a new worry. "I soiled the bed, too."

Marilla lifted the sheet to look.

"No. Not now. After it happened."

"Oh, yes, I know," Marilla told her. "We got you all cleaned up. Don't fret about it."

"I'm sorry," Anne cried.

"You don't have to be sorry, Anne."

"I didn't mean to," Anne tried to tell her, crying.

"I know. It's all right," Marilla said, leaning down to look her in the eyes. She was really worried.

"Was the doctor angry?" Anne asked, sounding every bit as young as she was.

"No," Marilla crooned, stroking her feverish head. "He said it's perfectly normal. And Rachel said- she said that that's happened to her, too. When your body's working so hard to push the baby out, it's only natural that sometimes other things get expelled, too."

"I'm afraid he's angry with me," Anne whispered, shaking her head softly.

Marilla wondered if Anne had heard her.

"You ought to try to rest a bit," Marilla told her finally, dabbing at the perspiration on Anne's forehead. "We'll handle everything. You're not to worry, darling."

Anne readily obliged, drifting into a fitful sleep, troubled by nurses lifting her covers to invade her once again as they checked her stitches and made sure she was not bleeding out.

The tearing had been severe.

* * *

Several hours later she awoke, hearing her baby crying.

She heard it first in her dreams.

She sleepily looked up at Marilla.

Marilla patted her head. "Rachel's tending to the baby. You needn't worry."

Anne's face held no expression.

Marilla asked, "Are you thirsty?"

Anne nodded.

Marilla got up to get the nurse, who brought them a glass of water.

Anne nearly choked on it.

Marilla reached for a towel and wiped Anne's chin, then dabbed at the water that had fallen on her bedcovers. Marilla took the glass from her.

"Perhaps when you're feeling up to it, you might like to see the baby," Marilla said, trying to sound very gentle with her. She was afraid to push Anne at all. She- _Marilla- _was still reeling from the delivery. Her hands shook when she first saw Anne's face looking so devoid of life, and her breath so _shallow- _and even as she thought about it now, the glass of water shook in her hands.

Anne did not respond.

"Anne?" Marilla asked, leaning in, touching her forehead. "Can you say something? You're worrying me..."

Anne finally looked at her. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse.

"I suppose I ought to look at it."

Marilla smiled, touching her cheek, and then went to the door. "I'll go get Rachel; she went with the nurse."

"Is something wrong with it?"

"No, darling. Just getting cleaned up and fed. I'll be right back."

* * *

Rachel came in gently, carrying the tiny bundle and smiling softly at Anne.

She slowly placed the baby into Anne's arms, which were positioned just right to hold it, keeping the baby's head supported, without even having to think of it- her baby care experience coming through.

Anne held it, but she did not look down at it.

Marilla was about to say something but decided not to. Maybe just _holding _the baby for a minute was enough, maybe she would look later.

Anne held the baby for several minutes, it making gurgling noises, with Anne seemingly trying her best to tune them out.

Finally she took a deep breath and looked down at it- almost as if she were afraid to look.

Marilla and Rachel watched her with interest.

Anne looked first at its hands, before she felt able to look at the baby's face. She looked at its fingernails, tinier than anything she'd ever seen. She put one hand out and hesitantly touched its fingers. Its skin was soft enough to be satin.

She felt an odd sensation touching it, one she couldn't put into words. But the feeling made her brave enough to look at its face.

Its eyes were screwed shut. _Good, I don't have to look at its eyes yet_, she thought gratefully; her worry about Billy's eyes coming back to her.

She looked at the baby's cheeks: Its face had that pink, splotchy appearance all newborns have.

Its mouth looked like it was about to let out a hearty wail, and Anne found herself automatically putting her finger to it. It suddenly put its lips around her finger, comforted.

She sat there a moment, not knowing what to do.

Finally she pulled the top of the blanket back, wondering if she might see a shock of red hair. She didn't. The baby was mostly bald, just blonde peach fuzz.

She hesitantly touched its head, and found its softness frightened her somehow. She found herself unable to believe that this tiny _person _was the same thing that had been inside her for months.

She quickly pulled away from it, fearful, then looked at Marilla and Rachel.

All she said was:

"Do I have to keep holding it?"

A brief look of disappointment flashed across both their faces before they looked at each other and in unison attempted to make their faces pleasant and calm.

They'd been _hoping-_ desperately hoping-that once she actually _saw _her baby for the very first time, and held it in her arms, that _something _would stir inside her- some sort of primal, maternal instinct would kick in- that would make this all just a little bit _easier_.

But that didn't appear to be the case.

Rachel reached for the baby and said, with forced cheerfulness, "I can hold him for you a little while."

"Oh. So it's a boy, then?" Anne asked, not appearing particularly interested in whether it was a boy or a girl. She hadn't even thought to ask.

"Yes, dear," Marilla told her, in that same, overly-bright, false optimism. "And Dr. Wescott says he's perfectly healthy; no worries."

"Good," Anne said, turning her face away from them.

She didn't say anything else, and Rachel and Marilla, having no idea what to do, just let her rest.

"Maybe it isn't the baby," Rachel said, after Anne appeared to have drifted off again. "She's so exhausted, poor thing, and in pain. She's...she's not in her right mind just now. Give it some time."

Marilla was worried. If Anne was indifferent to it, or disinterested, none of this would work. She looked down at the baby in her arms. _Please, Lord- let her find some joy in this baby that will make this all a bit easier._

They left Anne alone for about an hour, and when the baby began to cry again, Rachel thought they ought to try to get Anne to be the one who fed it.

"No!" Marilla said. "If she already doesn't want a baby then I'm not going to hand one to her crying and squalling! Let's get him calmed, first, and _then- _once he's happy and pleasant- _then_ we'll try to get her to hold him again."

When they'd come to the hospital, Marilla had needed to bring the bottles and formula she'd ordered, but the nurse had gotten things started for them in the beginning.

Rachel patted the baby. "There, there," she said comfortingly. "We're getting your bottle ready now. Once you're happily drinking away, then you'll go and see your mama again."

Once the bottle was in the baby's mouth, all was calm.

Marilla watched him drinking, and said, "All right, he's happy. _Now _let's see if Anne will do this. All she'll have to do is just hold the bottle and look at him drinking it."

They went in to Anne. She wasn't asleep, but she was still laying exactly where she'd been for the past hour- her eyes facing the wall, staring at it.

"Anne," Marilla said pleasantly. "We thought you could try again now."

Anne rolled her head over and looked at them. She sighed.

"All right," she finally said, devoid of any emotion.

"See, he's feeding now, so all you have to do is just hold the bottle," Marilla told her. She placed the baby in Anne's arms and guided Anne's hand to hold the bottle. "There you go."

Anne sat holding the bottle, not even looking down at the baby drinking it.

Once the baby finished his bottle, Anne set it on the table next to her. She still didn't look at the baby.

"Do you want to try burping him?" Rachel prodded gently.

"Oh, right." Anne said tiredly, seeming disinterested. But then she said, "Maybe he doesn't need to be burped."

"Well, Dr. Carter, back home, said that babies using bottles need to be burped more frequently than when nursed."

"Oh," Anne responded. In all the time she had been pregnant, she had never thought about nursing, much less asked about it, and now she had not questioned anyone about being handed a bottle.

She slowly lifted the baby up to her shoulder.

"Do you know how to burp a baby?" Marilla asked.

"Yes, of course, I've done it a million times," she told them sadly.

After several taps to the back, the baby burped, and Anne set him back down on her lap again.

"Well, it's burped. What do I have to do now?"

She sounded so deflated that Marilla said firmly, "Nothing. You don't have to do anything. You can rest, and the baby can just lay right here beside you."

Marilla moved the baby to Anne's side, resting him next to her. "See, now that'll be nice for both of you, won't it? You can get to know him, and he can go to sleep feeling that you're right here with him."

Anne didn't answer them. She just lay back against her pillows. She did not look down at her baby.

Marilla worried.


	68. A Lamp Lit in a Darkened Room

Gilbert had not left the house, but Dr. Carter brought medicine, and often checked for mail for Gilbert when he was in town.

Gilbert had received Anne's last letter only days before- the one about being afraid and telling him that Marilla would bring his mother's ring back if something happened to her.

But today- the letter Dr. Carter brought him- was the first time the envelope had been written in Miss Cuthbert's handwriting.

Gilbert held the letter as if it frightened him. He _wanted _to tear it open, _desperate _for any news- but he knew there was the very real possibility that once that letter was opened, his life was forever altered.

He pulled back the seal and slowly took the letter out.

"_Anne was safely delivered…"_

The letter dropped to the floor, and he fell to his knees.

His hands were shaking so badly he could hardly bring them together in prayer.

* * *

Mr. Blythe read the letter with wet eyes and a smile on his face:

_Anne was safely delivered of a son today at half past seven in the evening. The doctor says her baby boy is perfectly healthy, and though he weighs just an ounce under six pounds, he quite makes up for it with a strong set of lungs. She has not yet chosen a name for him._

_Mother and baby are doing well and we expect to return home sometime next month._

_I wanted to send word right away, Gilbert, as I know she's been in your and your father's thoughts and prayers just as much as she's been in ours._

_With love, _

_Marilla Cuthbert._

"I knew she would be all right," John said faintly.

He told Gilbert he needed to rest.

Gilbert sat with him, fearful.

* * *

"What are you going to name him?" Marilla asked when Anne was a bit more rested.

"Name him?" Anne looked as if she had forgotten she'd need to name him at all.

"Yes," Marilla said patiently. "What would you like to call him?"

"I haven't really thought about it," Anne replied, disinterested.

Marilla pursed her lips. Finally she said, "Dr. Wescott is going to be in later today to check on you and the baby. He'll need to fill out the birth certificate."

"Oh," Anne said glumly. "Then I guess I'll call it...Walter."

It was literally the first name that came to her mind, and she had no desire to think any further about it.

Marilla decided to ignore that she had just referred to the baby as_ it. _"That was your father's name, wasn't it?" she asked, trying to sound cheerful. "That's a very nice thing to do for his memory, Anne, calling the baby after your father."

"I guess," Anne shrugged. She glanced down at the baby, but then turned away from him and lay her head down.

"Well," Marilla said briskly, standing up. "I'm sure little Walter here is going to need another bottle soon, so I think I'll go get that started."

"All right," Anne responded softly, not seeming to care.

But-

"Marilla?"

Marilla turned back at the door.

"John," she said. "Walter _John_."

* * *

Matthew went into town daily to look for mail from his family, and like Dr. Carter, he'd check for Gilbert as well.

He, too, had received word of Anne's safety- opened immediately, as he did not think he could make the drive home without knowing if his darling girl was safe.

Once he'd wiped his eyes and gotten a clean handkerchief, he set off for the Blythe farm with a new letter for Gilbert.

* * *

_Gilbert,_

_Anne would like to write to you herself, of course, but she's still recuperating, and needs all the rest she can get. She hasn't yet been out of bed._

_I am just writing quickly to tell you that she's chosen a name. Walter for her father, and John for yours. I thought she ought to ask your father- or at least ask you- before assigning the name, but she insists neither of you will mind, as she loves your father as dearly as if he were her own._

_I'll write again when we know the date of our return. _

_Give your father all our love. We've been praying for his health these past weeks._

_Love,_

_Marilla Cuthbert_

* * *

"Dad," Gilbert said, eyes wet. _"Dad."_

John Blythe opened his eyes.

"Dad, look. Anne's named her baby after you."

His father did not respond.

His eyes would have to do his speaking for him.

"Look," Gilbert insisted, opening the letter. He read it aloud to his father. "Listen to this: Miss Cuthbert writes, _Walter for her father, and John for yours. _...Isn't that nice, dad?"

John reached out a shaky hand, asking for the letter.

But he could not look at it. He just lay it on his chest, which was straining each time it rose and fell, and he smiled.

Finally he found the strength to give Gilbert his last words:

"_This is a happy day."_

He spoke no more, and they sat with each other, until at last the lingering evening sun dipped below the horizon, taking all the brilliance of the water color-painted-twilight with it, and it grew dark enough to see the stars.

Later, when Gilbert opened the door, he saw that Mr. Cuthbert was still there, waiting for him.


	69. Matthew's Wing

Gilbert's eyes were red when he opened the door.

And when he saw that Matthew was still there, and had been there all the time- sitting in the kitchen for _hours_, just _waiting-_ something inside him threatened to come apart all over again. He was overcome with gratitude for that quiet man.

Matthew could not have hugged him, because Gilbert, doing his best to keep from breaking, was suddenly busy with a million thoughts running through his head.

"I...have to...get the Reverend...because of the- the _burial- _and I've got to ride over to Dr. Carter's...to tell _him_, and…I should get Mrs. Kincannon's wages, because I'm late with that, and I'll have to get-" Gilbert was searching for something, Matthew did not know what, but he could tell Gilbert needed to stop, to slow down, to _breathe_.

He put his hand out and lay it on Gilbert's shoulder: "You don't need to do anything tonight. You pack up what you need and come home with me. I'll ride over and tell the doctor and the reverend."

Gilbert stared at him a moment. Finally he nodded, letting go of a shaky breath.

Feeling lost, he let Matthew lead him to the stairs. Matthew waited and in a few minutes, Gilbert reappeared with a laundry sack. Matthew felt sorry for him, and knew that his eyes would be swollen in the morning.

* * *

"We've got a spare room upstairs," Matthew said gruffly as they entered the house. He led Gilbert up the steps-

But Gilbert had stopped at Anne's open door, and for a moment he could not breathe.

Finally he turned to find Matthew waiting for him.

Gilbert shook his head, coming back to the present. "I'm sorry," he said as he looked away from Anne's room and stepped toward the door that Matthew was about to open for him.

"I miss her too," was all Matthew said.

Matthew opened the door to the spare room, but was startled to find that Marilla had never packed anything away when she'd been in there preparing for Anne's trip. There was an open trunk on the bed, with several garments spilling out of it, and random items like books, gloves, and old hats no longer in decent condition to wear.

"Ain't like her," he muttered. "Not having things tidy. ...She hasn't been herself, though, in all her worry over the trip."

Gilbert was going to offer to pack everything up, but shrank back a bit when he saw that many of the articles on the bed were night gowns, petticoats, stockings, and other underthings, and so he did not suggest he move them.

Matthew stood there a moment. Then he decided, "You'll stay in Anne's room."

Gilbert could not protest, but only hesitantly said, "I don't think Miss Cuthbert would like me sleeping in Anne's room."

Matthew, sounding gruff, said: "Well Marilla ain't here, and I am. I'll leave you to it."

And then Gilbert was alone.

* * *

He stepped quietly into the room, closing the door softly behind him. Everything was still. As he walked across the room, the floorboards creaked under his shoes, and he wondered if they did that when Anne walked there, or if she was too light to make a sound.

He went to her desk, touching the inkwell that was still there, and felt it shock him. He pulled away, but then smiled, thinking it only right that her ink seemed alive.

He ran his hand along her dresser, not opening it, of course, but thinking of how she must have stood in that exact spot every morning.

He missed her terribly.

Suddenly the room felt too dark, too _empty_, and he sank onto her bed. After a moment he laid down, and let his weary head rest against her pillow.

It still smelled like her.

* * *

Gilbert woke up just before the sun. He washed but did not have to dress; he'd never gotten ready for bed the night before, and his clothes were now rumpled. He did not care.

He went down and decided to milk the cows and collect the eggs for the Cuthberts, and then he'd have to ride home to take care of his own. But once he was done, and went to find Matthew to ask about borrowing his horse to get back home, he realized that Matthew was gone and the horses were too.

When Matthew returned, he explained to Gilbert that he'd decided to go take care of Gilbert's cows and chickens, knowing Jerry could get theirs, and then he'd gone to talk to the reverend and the doctor about his father.

With his father so ill for so long, Gilbert had had to do so many things for himself. _Knowing_ this only _further_ burdened his father; he'd often told Gilbert he was sorry that his illness, though he could not help it, had caused Gilbert to grow up too fast.

But Matthew had taken care of his animals. Matthew had gotten the reverend and the doctor, and Matthew had helped in moving his father's body and making funeral arrangements.

It struck Gilbert as odd that someone else should step up to do these things. But he did not protest. As fragile as he felt during the time he watched his father fading away, he felt even more fragile now that his father was gone from him.

Matthew wanted to take care of him. And it had been a long time since Gilbert had been taken care of.

* * *

Matthew wished that Marilla and Anne could be home for the funeral, but it wasn't possible to wait for anyone. It was August, after all, and preparations had to be handled quickly.

But Matthew was glad for the turnout at the funeral, and Gilbert was glad that Matthew was there to be by his side.

* * *

The day after the funeral service, Matthew said gently, "I thought we might take a trip- go see Anne."

Gilbert had the briefest moment of hope on his face- as if there could be something good left in the word after all. But then his face fell.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I don't want to go. _You_ should, but I- _I_ can't."

Looking at Matthew, he explained: "If I come there, she'll want to know why I left my father while he's so sick. I can't _tell _her-" he broke off, trying to keep his voice steady even as the influx of emotion hit him- "She _can't _know. Mr. Cuthbert, _please_...don't tell her. Not _now_."

Matthew nodded slowly. He understood. If Anne- exhausted, in pain, trying to heal, and unhappy with an unwanted baby by her side- if she _knew _that Mr. Blythe, one of her dearest friends, was gone from this world...no, Gilbert was right.

Now was not the time to give her news that would break her heart.


	70. The Complications of Unmarried Parents

Rachel was sitting with Anne and the baby, who were both sleeping, while Marilla was with the doctor.

He had a pen and ink, and was going to fill out the birth certificate.

"What are you going to put down for the father's name?" Marilla asked before he began.

The doctor was surprised. "We know who the father is," he paused. "Don't we? You gave me his name. There hasn't been anyone _else_...?"

"No, no, of course there wasn't anyone _else_," Marilla said quickly. "But I wondered if we _had _to put down his name. Couldn't we just leave it blank?"

"I'm afraid I can't leave it blank. Now, we _could _put '_Unknown_' under the section for the father, but…Miss Cuthbert, if I may be _frank_, I never recommend writing '_unknown' _for the father if it can possibly be avoided."

Marilla did not need to ask why. A woman going through life officially on record as not knowing which man had fathered her baby...well, that would almost definitely invite certain implications about the sort of "lifestyle" she had led, if anyone were to find out.

Marilla shook her head at that thought. "If his name is on it, though, could that lead to any trouble for Anne down the road?"

The doctor was confident in telling her, "No. They didn't marry, and the baby won't carry the father's name. He technically has no _duty _to it. ...And as I understood it, their family seems eager to push it under the rug."

"Yes," Marilla agreed. "I _am _glad, though, that they believe they should shoulder some of the financial responsibility."

"I'm glad for that, too," Dr. Wescott told her. "I've met women, unmarried, trying to get financial help from the father of their baby, and it's almost impossible to get a judge to intervene- the courts look at it with the view that if she _expected _him to provide for her, then she should have married him."

"I hate for Anne to have to see his name there, though," Marilla said.

"I understand," Dr. Wescott replied. "I bought something for her- hopefully this will be a solution."

He opened the folio on his desk and handed Marilla a large piece of paper.

"This is a birth certificate too, but it's the kind people get for framing."

Marilla had seen in other people's homes the large birth certificates with fancy script and beautifully painted pictures of cherubs and flowers and whatnot. "Are those not _real _birth certificates?" She asked. "I always thought they were."

He explained. "Oh, they're not forgeries or anything, and they'll do for legal reasons in a _pinch_, but they're really more _decorative- _something to make a pretty heirloom. ...The legal paper isn't quite as charming-"

He held up the legal form for her; just a small black and white form with simple blanks for information to be filled in.

"I bought the pretty kind for Anne because I anticipated this might be a sore point for her. I'll fill out the legal birth certificate accurately as I ought to, and when you give her the heirloom one, you can just leave off the father's name. She'll like the pretty one, and she won't have to look at the official one."

Marilla looked at the large piece of paper he'd given to her. It was thick, sturdy paper, and the background was a soft watercolor pink. The border of the paper was painted to look like a string of pearls, shimmery and delicate, and around each place to write, there were pink roses with jewels scattered among them. "This is _exactly _the sort of thing she would like," Marilla told him, relieved.

The doctor carefully printed Anne's full name and address on the legal form under _Mother_.

"...And she's decided on Walter? She's sure?"

Marilla nodded. "Walter John," she clarified. "And Anne goes by Shirley-Cuthbert now that we've taken her in, so I expect the baby should have our last name added on, just as she did to hers."

"Of course," Dr. Wescott said, writing it in. He printed the date and time of his birth, and for the place of birth he carefully wrote out the hospital's address.

"All right," he smiled, "He's officially Walter."

He printed William Andrews under the section for the fathers information. He added Avonlea, P.E.I. as the father's residence. He had to mark the box that said no for _Were the mother and father married at the time of birth._

"I can see how it looks better for Anne to have a _known _father than an unknown father," Marilla said slowly, "But it's still unfortunate for her: The baby is illegitimate. And it'll _have _to say so on record."

"Well, Miss Cuthbert, it would have been far better- _in a legal sense- _if you'd insisted they be married before the baby came. But if Anne were _my _child I'd never permit such a thing, and I'm sure you wouldn't, either," he said.

"I wouldn't," Marilla agreed. "Long ago, when we first found out about Anne's situation, my own dear friend, Rachel Lynde told me they ought to marry, and I nearly came to blows with her over it! She went on to say that she just meant we ought to take them to the court house, make them say the words and get the paper- just so the baby wouldn't be on record as illegitimate. ...And I _understand_; being illegitimate will certainly feel like a curse on the poor creature! But even so, we just couldn't do that to _Anne_."

Dr. Wescott pointed out, "And while it solves one problem, it creates another: If Anne wanted to get married someday, she'd have to go to court and get a judge to agree to a divorce of her first marriage."

Marilla sighed, "And then she'd be a divorcee! Which, really, is no better! ...My dear girl can't win no matter what she does."

"Well," the doctor said, trying to stay positive, "She is very blessed to have a mother so caring. And it is beneficial that the young man's family is taking some financial responsibility."

"That's true," Marilla said, hating to admit that they did, in fact, need the Andrews' help.


	71. Mixed Messages

Marilla was sitting at the little drop-down desk in their boarding house room.

She'd gone 'home' to have a bath, change clothes, and pack some things to take back to bring back to Anne and the baby. Rachel was at the hospital with them right now, and Marilla was grateful that Rachel had showed up uninvited, because Marilla was finding that she certainly _was _needed. Not just for the baby, but for herself. Marilla felt she had to be so strong for Anne and she was relieved to have her 'bosom friend' there to unburden herself to when Anne was not listening. It was also a relief to be able to come back and have a few minutes to take care of herself without feeling as if she was abandoning Anne.

What she was doing now, while Anne and Rachel were not there to see, was addressing a letter to the Andrews.

She did not particularly want to write to them, but she had told Mrs. Andrews she would.

It had been several weeks ago, now, that Mrs. Andrews had stopped her in church and, almost stumbling over her words, had asked how Anne was.

Marilla had been quite affronted and for a moment did not know how to react.

"The thing _is_," Mrs. Andrews faltered, "I know when- _around_ when- would be her _due_ date, and-"

Marilla already felt herself bristling, and Mrs. Andrews noticed.

"I just thought perhaps you could let us know when the...the baby...has been born."

Marilla couldn't help her bitter response: "And why would you be interested in knowing that?"

Mrs. Andrews looked ashamed. "I just want to know that Anne is all right."

She looked at Marilla, imploring her, said in a desperate rush: "I won't ask about the baby's name or even whether it's a boy or a girl. I won't interfere at all. All I want to know is that she is safely through the ordeal and if she and the baby are well. That is all."

Marilla noticed that Mrs. Andrews had waited to ask this until her family, including her husband, had left the church. She wondered what Mr. Andrews would think about Mrs. Andrews request.

Looking into Mrs. Andrews eyes, she felt her anger ebb _slightly_ and could see Mrs. Andrews as a mother who felt a tremendous amount of guilt for what a child she raised had caused.

And Marilla- now a defensive mother- thought it was absolutely right that Mrs. Andrews should feel guilt.

But she agreed to the simple request of closure over the worries of childbirth.

Now Marilla sighed and started a letter.

_Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, _

_I am writing to inform you that the baby has been born._

She was going to sign her name, then. That was all she wanted to say, just answer the question and be done with it.

But then, thinking about how Billy was likely just hanging around, goofing off with friends and having no cares at all...well, Marilla wanted to rub in the seriousness of what he had put her dear girl through. So she continued:

_Anne is safe now, though she still has not healed; she required stitches, and her convalescence will be long. The birth was dangerous. She lost too much blood and she is much weakened._

Afraid that wasn't enough to really hit them, she wrote- in slightly larger letters-

_You should consider it providential that your son's actions did not cause her to lose her life._

After pointing this out, Marilla felt better.

She did not add any information about the baby; as far as she was concerned it was none of their business what the baby's exact birth date was, or anything else about it. They needed only to know that the baby had arrived.

She sealed the letter and took it to the post office.

* * *

When Mrs. Andrews received Marilla's letter, she let out a breath, and then tucked it away.

Jane came home from Ruby's house with news about the baby.

"Mother," she decided to mention, "Anne had the baby. And-"

"I have no interest in hearing about that baby," Mrs. Andrews interrupted. "Go upstairs and wash for dinner, Jane."

"But Mother-"

"Go."

Jane started up the stairs, but then turned back. "Mother, why do you pretend you don't care? I see the bills from the hospital arriving in our mail, and every other week you get a receipt for the boarding house rent. But you-"

"Jane," her mother said, sounding on the verge of a nervous breakdown, "I don't care to discuss it. It's not _our_ problem and I don't want to hear another word about it. Now go wash for dinner. We won't wait on you!"

Jane's shoulders slumped. She did not understand her mother. She finally turned and went up the stairs.

* * *

With Anne out of town for such a long time, and it being summer when school was out, Billy was able to spend more time at home with his family before going back to his aunt and uncle's farm in Nova Scotia, though he did not go into town or attend church, due to the way people in Avonlea would receive him.

"So I got some news about Anne," Jane announced later that night.

Billy stopped suddenly, but then turned the page of his magazine and shrugged. "So?"

"She had the baby," Jane told him.

"I know," Billy said.

"How did _you_ know?" Jane asked, surprised.

"Mother," he said.

"Really?" Jane was surprised. "What did Mother say about it?"

Billy looked like he was already tired of this conversation. "She _said_, 'She had the baby'."

"That's all?"

Billy nodded. He yawned.

Jane sounded deflated: "You don't have any interest in seeing it, though."

"Nope," Billy said, his eyes still on his magazine.

Jane sighed, "Well, I guess that works out, then- I'm sure Anne wouldn't _let_ you see it, even if you _did_ want to."

Billy did not answer.

"...I think Anne is going to marry Gilbert eventually, and he'll end up having to raise it."

"Fine with me," Billy finally said. "Mr. Perfect already thinks he's better at everything than anyone else. May as well be better at that too."

"You know, Billy, I think it's sort of horrible that you're happy to dump it on someone else," Jane told him disdainfully.

Billy finally looked at her. "Is this _all_ you're ever going to talk about? It's getting old, Jane."


	72. Separation

The Andrews home- with Mr. Andrews indignant that anyone would blame Billy, and Mrs. Andrews with complicated feelings she could not resolve, Prissy embarrased by the whole situation, and Billy who did not think twice about what he had done- were a million miles away from the hospital where Anne lay unhappy with a baby boy by her side.

When Marilla returned from the boarding house, Rachel met her, saying, "Marilla, I understand she's recuperating, but it's been _days _now and all she's done is give him his bottle a few times and burp him. She hasn't changed his diaper even once, or given him a bath, or anything. She ought to be doing more for him. She doesn't even pick him up when he cries. _We _do!"

"The doctor doesn't want her out of bed except to relieve herself. It's not as if she can go make his bottles for him," Marilla said, exasperated.

"Yes, but just look at her!" Rachel said, as if to prove her point:

Marilla peeked into the room. Anne was lying on the bed, awake, but doing nothing except staring into space, her large, watery eyes empty of any emotion. Her abandoned baby was crying, his face turning an angry red, but she did not appear to notice him.

"Anne," Marilla said quickly, coming into the room.

Anne came out of her daze and looked up. "Marilla," was her listless greeting.

"Anne, did you notice the baby, he's fussing," Marilla said, trying to sound gentle with her.

Anne glanced at him. "Oh," she said. She sighed and pulled him by his legs closer to her.

"Anne, I'm worried about you," Marilla said, sitting down next to her on the bed. She scooped the baby up- not dragging him by the legs as Anne had done- and wrapped him up in the blanket that had come loose from him.

Once he was wrapped tightly, he settled down almost immediately.

"Rachel told me that newborn babies like being wrapped tightly because it makes them feel the way they did in the womb. ...Remember how Dr. Wescott said when you stopped feeling him kicking so much, it was because there wasn't much room?"

Anne didn't say anything. "It's not the same," she said finally, her voice hoarse.

"What's not the same, dear?"

"He isn't."

"I don't know what you mean…?"

"It was different before, when it- when he- was still inside. I feel like it's not the same baby."

"Oh, _Anne_, this _is_ the same baby. They didn't accidentally switch him. Rachel and I were both there the whole time-"

"That's not what I mean," Anne interrupted flatly. Then she said, "It's different now, seeing him."

"In what way?"

Anne heaved a sigh, as if explaining this was too much work. "Before, the baby was only an _idea_. And I didn't know if it was a boy or a girl. And I thought it _liked_ me and wanted to _talk_ to me, and I talked to _it_. Now, it's just…"

"What?"

Anne shrugged. She could not even look at the baby. "I don't know. It's not the same."

Marilla said gently, "Perhaps if you did more for him- fed him and did his diapers and everything- then you might feel more _bonded _to him."

Anne did not want to do anything for him.

But he started wailing again, for no apparent reason, and so she picked him up and rubbed his back, and eventually he stopped.

The moment he was calm, Anne asked, "Marilla, can I put him in that basket we brought? I don't like him laying next to me."

Marilla felt crushed, but got the basket from the corner where she'd set it. She lay the baby in it. "Perhaps you're right," she said. "Putting him in the basket instead of in bed with you. He could fall off the edge of the bed, or you might roll over him. He's safer this way. Uh, Anne…"

"What?"

"I couldn't help but notice- whenever you _do _take care of him, you don't _look _at him."

"Of course I look at him. How could I give him a bottle if I wasn't looking?" Anne asked irritably.

"Yes, you look, but...you seem to glance enough to see what you're doing, and then look away. Have you ever just looked at him? Just at his face, or his eyes?"

"I looked at him when he was born."

Marilla remembered Anne looking at the baby's face, and asking,_ Do I have to keep holding him?_

"He didn't even have his eyes open, then, darling," she said softly. "Wouldn't you like to look at him when he can look at _you?"_

Anne did not answer.

"You act as if you're _afraid _to look at him. _Are _you afraid, Anne?"

"He's a baby. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Then _can _you? Go on, _look _at him. He hasn't gone to sleep yet. You can see his eyes. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Anne sighed and looked into the basket. She did not want to look at his eyes, so she only pretended to, and then she turned to Marilla. "I've looked at him now," she lied.

Marilla felt helpless.

Finally she said, "Well, maybe when you aren't so tired, things will be easier."

Anne did not see how being less tired would change anything. When Walter threatened to let out a wail, Anne put her hand to his lip, and he promptly latched onto her finger, comforted by it. When he wrapped his little fist around her thumb, Anne was reminded of the bandages that had been wrapped around that thumb when her wrist was sprained nine months ago.


	73. A Rock and a Hard Place

Matthew did not want his sister to find out about John's passing by way of a letter. He wanted to go there and tell her himself, but he felt he could not leave Gilbert. He thought briefly of bringing Gilbert _with _him, but he knew that Gilbert did not want Anne to know about his father- and the moment Anne saw Gilbert, she would know. But Gilbert traveling all that way with Matthew and _not _seeing Anne at the end seemed impossible, too. Finally Matthew decided to write to Rachel to tell her, and see if she would be able to speak to Marilla sometime when it was just the two of them, without Anne around.

Rachel waited until they were alone in the boarding house for the night. Knowing without a doubt that John was at death's door when they left, did not make it any easier for Marilla learn that he had at last succumbed to his fate.

In the morning, Rachel went to Anne herself, and told her that Marilla might not be coming in today, as she had woken up with a headache.

It was not a lie.

* * *

Marilla finally _did _come back to the hospital, but not until late in the day.

She was worried about Anne's lethargy, but today she was grateful for it: Anne did not seem to notice her face or the fact that Rachel squeezed her close to her side when she came into the room.

Marilla cleared her throat and said, "Anne, I wrote to the Children's Home I visited that time. To ask if they still had room."

Anne did not respond.

"They said they can take him. But they won't take an infant until after it's reached two months. So we'll have to make do until then."

Anne still did not respond.

"Now, I don't know when Dr. Wescott will release you from the hospital, but regardless, we'll be staying in our boarding house for at least another month- maybe longer- because he doesn't want you traveling on the train any sooner than a month from now. So we may be able to just take the baby on to the Home as we're leaving New Brunswick."

When Anne still didn't say anything, Marilla went on: "Ideally we would have a _family _to put him with, but the Children's Home is a very good one. It isn't a bit like the one you were in. He'll be treated properly there. And there's always the possibility that some family might come along and adopt him."

Anne finally spoke.

"He might end up with someone who won't take care of him."

_Right __**now **__he's with someone who won't take care of him, _Rachel thought to herself. But she kept her mouth shut, realizing it was not a good time to say anything that would upset Marilla. Marilla was doing well just to be functioning right now.

Marilla was happy to hear that response from Anne. It meant that Anne wanted to put _some _amount of thought into the baby; she wasn't willing to just drop him anywhere.

"We don't _have_ to leave him there," Marilla relented. "I just thought you might feel better if we did."

Anne started to cry. "You think I'm terrible," she sputtered. "You don't _want _me to have him! You think I _hate _him!"

Marilla and Rachel looked at each other helplessly.

Anne roughly dragged the basket closer to her, making the baby cry as the basket went _bump bump bump _over the rumpled quilt.

Anne sat crying, with the basket on her lap, but she still did not look at her baby or pick him up.

Marilla and Rachel were very confused.

* * *

Gilbert felt unbounded joy when he looked at the envelope in his mail and realized that this time, the address was not written in Miss Cuthbert's handwriting, but in Anne's own.

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I miss you awfully. I wish I'd been able to write, but everything was so mixed up for so long. I'm so tired._

_Marilla says I mustn't try to write much now, and she's hovering. She says I can't do anything that might exhaust me. Truthfully, there's very little that doesn't._

_I suppose you must be wondering about the baby. He's little and wrinkly and he wails all the time and when he's hungry he screams his little head off and then his face looks all red and purple. I'm already tired of him._

_But then, I'm tired all the time anyway, so maybe it isn't his fault. Dr. Wescott says soon he'll lose that newly-born look._

_I haven't thought a bit about finding a place for him. There's a Children's Home I can leave him at, but they won't take him until he's two months old. I'd rather a real family take him. Maybe once I'm better, and we come back to Avonlea, I'll have the strength to keep up the search._

_All my love,_  
_Anne_

Gilbert sighed. He was overjoyed to hear from Anne. But he couldn't help feeling the slightest bit of disappointment: he'd hoped that she might feel some fulfillment in the baby. It did not appear that that was the case.

He thought about what he could do to help find a place for the baby to go, since Anne couldn't seem to attach to it.

* * *

Much later- long after everything was settled- Anne was sobbing yet again.

"Oh, Anne, you mustn't cry over it. It isn't that bad," Marilla sighed, exasperated with her. "You act as if it's the worst thing that ever happened to anybody!"

"It _is_," Anne cried. "He's _leaving_. And there is _nothing_ worse in the world than your baby leaving you!"

"He isn't really going anywhere. He won't be more than a few minute's drive from you. You're being dramatic, and it's ridiculous."

Anne only cried harder.

"You know, you don't _have_ to send him at all. You _could_ keep him home with you."

"No," Anne said, sniffling. "I want him to have other children around him. ...And I think it'll be better for him to go."

"Then you must stop your fussing."

Anne had to get up and leave to find a clean handkerchief.

Rachel came into the room. "What on earth is wrong with her now?"

Marilla said, in a voice to match Anne's drama, "The time has come to be separated from Walter. ...For seven whole hours. As if he's the first six year old child in the history of the world to begin going to school."

"It isn't seven hours- it's seven and_ a half,_" Anne sobbed from the next room. "The teacher gives them thirty minutes for lunch!"


	74. A Letter to Gilbert

So….about last chapter… :p I thought it would be creative to have like a little flash forward in time where we get to see that an older Anne is really attached to Walter. I thought it might brighten things up to skip ahead to see that, because right now we are in such a dark, sad time and we will be for quite a while. ...But all I did was make things sound super confusing lol! Sorry. If I ever do time jump thingies again, I will write them better I promise lol : )

Ok, back to the present! We are not in the future anymore :)

* * *

Edited again: Sorry I posted with mistakes. I give up for the night LOL.

* * *

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I miss you. But don't come here._

_The doctor let me go back to our boarding house now. I'm glad. Trying to sleep in a hospital is very hard, because there's always something happening. The bed at our boarding house is ever so much softer than a hospital bed, too. I haven't really walked around at all because they made me sit in a wheelchair to go across the street, and they still won't let me up except to take a bath. The doctor says I can't do much of anything yet. _

_Mrs. Lynde is staying here with us, on the sofa. I hope she isn't uncomfortable. I asked her if she'd like to share the bed with Marilla and I could take the sofa, but she wouldn't hear of it. _

_Now that I'm back at the boarding house, we have to have the baby here at the boarding house too. Walter John Shirley-Cuthbert. It's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Later on, I thought maybe I ought to have used Matthew's name. But at the time- so soon after the birth, being asked what I wanted on his certificate- I honestly didn't think much about it at all, I only wanted to pick something quickly to be done with it, and Walter was the first thing that came to mind, so I said that. _

_And then I thought about how much I miss your father, and how kind he is to me, and I wanted so much to feel like he was here with me right now, so I asked the doctor to add John too._

Gilbert paused, taking a shaky breath. Anne's gesture touched him even more now that his father was gone. Even though he saw a tear fall onto the paper, he smiled, remembering his father's words- "this is a happy day".

_I asked Marilla if she thought Matthew would feel slighted that I didn't use his name, and she said no. But I told her that if I was living in my own home, it would make sense to call a child after Matthew, but I'm not in my own house, I'm still in their house, and I thought of all these years I'll be living with Matthew and how calling out "Matthew!" in a house that __already__ has a Matthew, well, I'd have to use some sort of nickname for the little creature to avoid confusion, and I didn't know if I would want to name it something only to call it something else- I really didn't give myself time to think about it. But my father isn't here, so it won't cause any confusion at all when I call out the name Walter. _

_And your father __is__ here, of course, but since John is only his middle name, that won't create confusion, either._

When Gilbert read this, he paused, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. She still didn't know.

He read on:

_I can't say I like having the baby here with me, but I'm certainly starting to feel better now that he's outside instead of inside! Having your body to yourself is a vast improvement over having to go around with a whole other person inside of you. I'm exceedingly glad not to have to share my belly with it anymore. _

_But I still don't feel like myself yet, for a long time after he came out, I hurt all the time. I still do. Marilla told me the doctor had to give me some stitches, but I guess I was quite out of it because I don't remember that at all. _

Gilbert frowned. Miss Cuthbert hadn't told him there'd been any complications. Not that it was his business to know, of course, but…well, perhaps it was better she hadn't told him, just in case Anne didn't want it divulged- it was about _her_ body, after all. He felt sorry for her; he had read that sometimes childbirth caused perineal tears that required stitches. He also remembered that when he first _saw_ the diagram showing _what_ a perineal tear was, he'd felt a wave of nausea come up that caused him to doubt whether he could become a doctor after all.

_When I was little I asked one of the families I was with if they knew where babies came from. But the wife told me they grew out of the cabbage patch, and the husband told me the stork brought them. I figured they were both mistaken, since they told me two different things. What I could never understand is how they had five babies without knowing where they came from!_

_When I was with the Hammonds, I asked them too. Mr. Hammond said the doctor brings the baby with him in his doctor bag. But I looked in the doctor's bag and it was just all full of medical supplies. There wasn't room in there for a baby, let alone twins. And if the doctor brought the baby with him, then what was Mrs. Hammond screaming about? When I asked Mrs. Hammond, that's when she told me about the pet mouse. _

_So all I __really__ learned is that grownups don't like to talk about where babies come from. ...And now I understand why. I better make sure Marilla doesn't look at this letter; she'd be ashamed of me writing such things._

_But don't you think the cabbage patch idea would be a remarkable improvement over the current method? You wouldn't have to spend nine long, miserable months sharing your body with a whole extra person! And if you didn't want a baby in the first place, then you just wouldn't plant one._

…_Although I guess if you really did want it, then you'd have to sit by the cabbage patch all the time to make sure nobody took yours._

Gilbert smiled at this. Anne always had ideas for improvement, didn't she? If she had been here, he'd have told her that he would sit by the cabbage patch for her so she could go on to do other things.

_Marilla and Mrs. Lynde are helping me do everything. Every day is just all about trying to keep him from wailing. He cries a lot, and I don't like it, but Marilla says I have to be patient with him because he doesn't have any other way of telling us what he needs. And I know that, but I still don't like having to hear him._

_She told me, "When he was still inside you, everything was taken care of for him- he didn't ever feel hungry, or too hot or too cold, or feel the prick of diaper pins. You must be understanding of him, he's having to adjust to living in a harsher world now that he's out!" _

…_And I suppose she's right; Walter and I are __**both**__ unhappy where we are._

Gilbert knew it was silly- and he'd never tell anyone he did it- but when he reached the end of the letter- where she'd signed _Love, Anne- _he kissed it.


	75. September

As the days went on, Walter began to lose that "newly-born" look that Anne did not like- the wrinkly, funny purply-red look. But this did not improve her mood, because once he started to look like a regular infant, it was easier to see his features. She still would not look at his face much, fearful of what she might find there.

Rachel and Marilla were doing nearly everything for the baby, including bathing him and changing his diapers. They were also in the boarding house kitchen often to prepare bottles; but this Anne could not do, as she was not supposed to be out of bed yet. Anne fed the baby, giving him the bottles that Rachel or Marilla brought to her, and she burped him when he was finished, but that was all she did for him.

Rachel still lectured Marilla often about how she ought to make Anne do more for the baby, but Marilla would not listen to her. Marilla thought Anne was simply exhausted, and in her exhaustion she could not cope with the needs of the baby. She felt sure that over time as Anne healed she would begin to do more.

But one day when Marilla had gone to the pharmacy, Rachel decided enough was enough and Anne must do something. She was positive that if someone just pushed Anne to take over, she would, and she would see that she could take care of him for herself. So when Walter needed his diaper changed, Rachel brought him to Anne. She put a towel down and set the baby on it with a wet washcloth and a clean diaper and told Anne she needed to change him.

Then she went into the parlor and sat down. She thought that if Anne realized no one else was going to pick up after her, she'd do it.

And Rachel thought Marilla would be pleased to discover when she returned that Anne _was _going to start taking care of her baby after all.

But Rachel sat waiting, and Walter kept crying.

Finally Rachel went back into the bedroom. Anne had not taken his diaper off. Strangely, though, she was holding him to her as if she was trying to comfort him.

Rachel came over and took the baby from Anne's arms. "What are you doing?"

"I'm holding him," Anne said, as if it were obvious.

"Yes, but why?" Rachel asked, feeling frustrated because she could not understand her.

Anne explained, "I'm trying to make him stop crying."

"Getting a hug is not going to fix a wet diaper."

Anne put the baby back down, almost dropping him like a hot potato, and turned around in bed, facing away from Rachel. "I don't want to change him," she said.

When Marilla returned, she wondered why Rachel and Anne seemed put out with each other.

* * *

Diana and Jane soaked up every bit of news Gilbert could give them. Diana received letters from Anne, but due to her mother's reluctant acceptance of the situation, Anne could not mention anything about the baby, and Jane could not receive letters at all.

Gilbert told them what the baby was like- though Anne's description of him was not at all flattering- and they both felt sad to know that Anne didn't seem to want her baby.

Jane could not stop thinking about him, and how Anne didn't like him, and one evening as her family sat in the parlor, it built up inside her until she couldn't help saying something.

"Well, I think it's just terrible," Jane announced, to the room-to everyone and to no one in particular. "Poor Anne. Stuck with that baby and being so miserable!"

Her mother was sitting bent over her sewing, shutting Jane out.

Her father was reading, and Jane could tell he was not even reading but was simply focused on the page in order to tune her out.

Prissy and Billy had a checkerboard between them, playing. Once Jane mentioned the baby, Prissy, blushing, would not look up from the game. Billy's expression especially angered Jane, he simply looked bored with the whole subject.

"I think it's just terrible," Jane said loudly, again, getting no reaction. "Nobody wanting that poor baby."

Mrs. Andrews finally looked up. "_Must_ you go on about that...unpleasant subject?"

Jane deflated. "_Mother..._"

"What?" Billy snapped, finally looking up. "It's all you talk about, Jane! Headline: No one cares."

"That's just the problem!" Jane said angrily. "No one cares! And we _should_! We should _all_ care. It has to do with _us_, too, you know!"

She took a breath. "I was thinking, we ought to tell Anne that we'll take it sometimes. Maybe we can work out sort of a schedule. So she doesn't have to take care of it all by herself."

Billy rolled his eyes. "Why would we keep it here?" he asked. "What good'll that do? Nobody wants it."

"Well, guess what?" Jane asked, upset. "Anne doesn't want it, either! But unlike _you_, she can't pretend it isn't here!"

"Well _I _don't want anything to do with it," Billy muttered, going back to his game. "And I don't have to."

Jane was getting upset. She stood up and tossed her needlepoint onto the sofa in a way that wasn't like her at all.

She looked at Billy. "You can't bring...bring something to _life..._and then say you don't want anything to do with it! ...It's _alive _because _you_ made it come to life! And then you think you can just walk away!"

"When can I go back to Nova Scotia?" Billy asked his parents.

* * *

Once September began, and the baby was a month old, Dr. Wescott said it wouldn't be much longer before he felt it was safe for Anne to travel.

"Oh, it'll be so nice to be _home_," Marilla said. "Though I admit I've been spoiled here. It'll be hard to give up the conveniences we've gotten used to!"

Anne did not say one word to her in response. Marilla worried; it seemed the longer they had the baby with them, the less and less Anne ever spoke. She missed her dear girl and wondered if she would ever get her back again.

* * *

Gilbert, who had still been staying with Matthew, decided he needed to go back to his own house. But even though he wasn't sleeping at Green Gables anymore, he was there every day. His own house was too quiet, too empty. Though Matthew was so quiet he almost wasn't there, Gilbert found his very presence comforting.

Though Matthew did not say it, the feeling was mutual.

* * *

It was September, and school was soon to begin. All of the children wondered what their new teacher would be like. They'd never had a lady teacher before.

Gilbert found he could not look forward to school, because all it did was remind him of how much Anne had had taken from her.


	76. To Green Gables, and Marilla's Complaint

At last the doctor thought Anne was well enough to travel, and Marilla booked their train trip home.

When Anne caught her first sight of Matthew, she began to cry. Finally they all had to sit down on a bench and wait, because Anne could not stop crying. Matthew held her on his lap and didn't say anything. She just clung to his neck tightly and would not let go.

After a long while, Anne finally loosened her grip on Matthew and just rested against him, sniffling and trying to breathe. Matthew stroked her hair and whispered, "Let's get you home."

In the buggy, Matthew thought he'd finally get a glimpse of the baby, but Marilla set his basket on the floor of the buggy and mouthed, "Later."

Seeing Green Gables in the distance was something to behold, and Anne felt the tiniest glimmer of hope as it came nearer and nearer.

But then her thoughts turned to her _other _home, and she asked, "Could you take me to see Gilbert's father, before we go home? I've missed him almost as much as I missed you, Matthew. And he's gone so long feeling so poorly, I think it'll lift us both up to see each other."

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other.

"We need to get the baby settled at home, Anne," Marilla finally said, her voice too bright, too cheerful, too forced. She cleared her throat. "Besides, you've had a long trip. You ought to have a rest now."

In the house, Marilla and Matthew set down their things but did not put them away. Marilla wanted to get Anne into bed first thing, as the doctor had told her the trip out would be tiring, and that just because she was well enough to travel, did not mean she was fully recovered.

So Anne was put to bed in Marilla's room, where she would be staying until she was all better. The baby's bed was already there, next to Marilla's bed, where Matthew had put it together after it had been shipped to them.

"Are you all right, dear?" Marilla asked kindly once Anne was settled.

Anne said, "After I've rested, _then_ can we go to see Mr. Blythe? It's been ever so long since I've seen him, and I want to try to make him feel better."

Marilla's breath caught in her throat. "Uh- well, we'll talk about that later, dear. You might not feel up to it. You need your rest."

"But-"

Matthew spoke up. "Aren't you going to show me the baby?"

"Oh. I suppose."

Marilla set the baby in Anne's lap, but Anne squirmed away from it and said quickly, "_Matthew_ wants to hold it."

So Marilla guided Matthew's arms- because he was holding the baby like one would hold a sack of potatoes- and she smiled at how obviously _enraptured_ he was. His hands, rough with a lifetime of farm work, and a fair bit of dirt under the fingernails, clashed with the baby's clean white head supported in the palm of his hand. Matthew hardly ever spoke, but now he was thoroughly speechless. Anne couldn't help smiling just a little bit at Matthew's adoration. Marilla noticed, and hoped that maybe knowing how much Matthew loved the baby would prompt Anne to love it too.

* * *

When Anne woke up, she was disappointed to see the little creature only a few feet away from her, in the bed she'd picked out for it.

"Hi," she said glumly.

She had sort of thought that once she returned home to Green Gables, everything that had happened before would feel like a bad dream and things would be right again. But it hadn't been a dream, and here he was.

Walter was staring straight at her, and though his eyes weren't really focused, Anne felt uncomfortable. She turned away from him and went back to sleep.

* * *

With Anne sleeping, and the baby content for a little while, Marilla had time to fill Matthew in on her own frustrations.

"Do you know how many times she's changed his diaper in the past month?"

Matthew didn't say anything.

"Twice, Matthew- twice in a _month!_ Do you know _why_ I haven't bothered to make her do it any more?"

Matthew just waited.

"Because she doesn't do it properly! Do you know how she changes his diapers, Matthew?"

Matthew waited again.

"She literally changes it- she takes the old one off, and puts the new one on! And that's _all _she does! The first time she changed him I didn't see, but the second time I did, and I asked her _'Is that how you changed him the first time?_' and she told me _'yes_', and I said, '_Well, Anne, you've got to clean him, you can't put the new diaper on without cleaning him first! You know how to change a diaper- didn't you wash the Hammonds' babies?' _and she answered, _'yes,' _and I asked her, _'If you know how to change a diaper properly, then why aren't you doing it?' _and she just shrugged and put it on anyway!"

Matthew said quietly, "I feel bad for her, having soiled diapers to clean when she already spent her childhood cleaning them."

"I understand that, but, Matthew, he didn't soil the diaper, he only _wet _the diaper. And it terms of cleaning a baby, a _wet _diaper is a lot different than a _soiled _diaper."

Marilla went on, storming around the kitchen as she began boiling water for Walter's next bottle, "And giving him a _bath_\- I have to do it. Would you like to know the way she gave him a bath?"

Matthew didn't answer; he was pretty sure that his sister would tell him whether he said anything or not.

"First of all, she didn't even undress him before she put him in the water. I said, '_Anne, you can't give him a bath with his clothes on' _so I got them off, and then do you know what she did?"

This time Marilla did not even pause as if waiting on him to reply. She continued, "She poured water on his head, and it went in his eyes. I told her to be more careful. She said _'oh' _and proceeded to wash his arms!"

"What's wrong with washing his arms?" Matthew said, finally speaking.

"Nothing, except that that's _all_ she did! After she washed his arms, she took him out of his bath, dried his head and arms, and dressed him. Oh, I gave up and did it myself!"

Matthew was quiet. He wished he had a solution, but he didn't. "Maybe with more time," was all he said.

"I hope so," Marilla said, turning on the stove. "Because if she can't start doing a little more to take care of him, I don't know how much longer I'll last."


	77. Change

Anne had heard every word of Marilla's complaint.

When she woke up, she got out of bed. She left Marilla's room, and dragged the tub out and dumped all of Walter's clothes and cloth diapers, except for the ones he was wearing, into the tub. She poured laundry soap in, and began filling the tub.

Marilla walked in and gasped, "Anne, what on earth are you doing?"

"I'm washing his clothes and his diapers," she said.

Marilla came over and took the laundry soap from her. "You shouldn't have pulled that tub out- that was too heavy for you! My goodness, Anne, you're not even healed yet! You'd better lay down now. Be sure to tell me if you start hurting and I'll send Matthew to fetch Dr. Carter right away. ...I hope you haven't damaged anything internally!"

Anne was discouraged. "I was only trying to take care of his diapers like you wanted. I heard you telling Matthew I wasn't doing anything..." Anne started to cry.

"Oh, Anne," Marilla was flustered. "...Why don't you just change his diapers, and leave the laundry to me? Look, he's crying right now- he probably needs a change."

"I don't want to change him. Can't you change him, and I'll stay in here and wash the dirty laundry?"

"You'd rather wash out a load of smelly diapers instead of just wiping the baby off and putting a clean one on?" Marilla asked.

Anne was still crying.

"Anne, _why_ can't you change his diapers and give him baths? I'm trying to _understand _you, dear."

"I don't know," Anne said. "But I don't want to."

Marilla said, "Come with me. We're going to change his diaper right now."

She led Anne back into her room and picked Walter up. Marilla had tried to get Anne to change diapers before, but with little success. This time she was determined to make it happen, and she thought she might have more success, because Anne seemed to be breaking down a bit.

She set the baby on a towel and got a washcloth and a clean diaper. She nudged at Anne to get her to unpin the diaper and pull it off. She put the washcloth in Anne's hand and waited until Anne got her baby cleaned up. Then Anne put the fresh diaper on.

"Was that so bad?" Marilla asked, trying to be gentle with her.

"No," Anne said. She let go of a shaky breath. "I guess not."

"I'll handle the laundry. You change him."

"...All right." Anne finally agreed.

Changing a diaper was a stumbling block they'd now gotten over, and Anne began changing him regularly.

* * *

Anne did what was expected of her, and little else. She dutifully changed his diapers and gave him baths, and she even started to get up to mix his formula and boil the water for his bottles, though she often left the used bottles for Marilla to wash.

Very often Anne hadn't anticipated his needs and he was left to cry while she boiled water, until at last Marilla tried gently to explain that if they anticipated his schedule, he wouldn't cry so much.

But Anne didn't seem to be able to follow a schedule, and Marilla always had to remind her when it was time for them to start getting a bottle ready.

Marilla thought Anne ought to take more interest in the baby, but she couldn't always figure out what was a lack of concern and what was just pure exhaustion, so she continued washing the bottles for Anne and reminding her when it was time to start making them.

Marilla found herself holding the baby a lot, carrying him around, rocking him to sleep, and loving on him more than usual, since she thought he _ought_ to be held and Anne didn't seem to want to pick him up any more than necessary.

But at least Anne was finally taking care of him.

* * *

At the end of the week, Anne could no longer be put off about seeing Mr. Blythe- they were running out of excuses- and Marilla and Matthew sat down with her to explain.

Matthew told her that the only reason Gilbert had stayed away is because he knew that if she saw him, she'd instantly know, and he didn't think it would be good for her to find out when she was doing so poorly herself. But now that she knew, Gilbert would love to come over and see her- he'd missed her so badly.

Anne would have been angry with all of them for not telling her, but she could not find even one ounce of anger. It was lost among her sorrow.

Marilla wished they hadn't had to tell her, because it seemed to set her on a downward spiral all over again. She began ignoring her baby crying, and she would not get out of bed.


	78. Anne and Gilbert are Reunited

The day after Anne learned of John Blythe's passing, she lay in Marilla's bed, her face white and her eyes red.

Matthew had said he could bring Gilbert to her, but Anne put the covers up over her head.

Finally Matthew went back outside to work, and Marilla went down to the cellar to sort out what they had and start to plan for meals again. She felt spoiled by how little food preparation she'd had to do while in New Brunswick, and as she looked at her rows of canning, she sighed. Then, feeling a tinge of guilt, she quickly thanked God that they _had _all this food for her to cook.

When she came back upstairs, she began to cut up onions and potatoes for a stew, and then tackle a little housekeeping.

She would not know for a few hours that Anne was gone.

* * *

Gilbert did not know who he was expecting to see when he heard a loud knocking at his front door, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see _Anne_.

He stared at her for a moment that felt like a thousand years, and before he knew it, his face twisted and he was crying.

The sight of him crying only made Anne begin to cry too, and she immediately wrapped him in a hug.

They stood there in the threshold together, the door wide open, crying together.

It was a mix of _everything_. Gilbert had felt he had been holding his breath for ages, never knowing when he would lose his father and if he might lose Anne, too. And once his father had left him, he had found it unbearable to go through his grief without Anne to talk to, yet he had no choice, as she had been taken from him. And he'd felt so alone for so long. Despite Matthew's wonderful presence in his life, if he did not have Anne herself then he was alone in the world. And now she was right here in front of him. He felt it was only now, at this moment, that he could grieve openly.

After a lifetime of crying into her, he finally broke away so that he could _look _at her. "I'm _sorry_," he said, trying to catch his breath and touching her tear-stained shoulder. "Come in, come in."

She somehow came into the house and he shut the door after her; it took the briefest moment and then they were back together again, in each other's arms.

"Gilbert," she finally said, "I need to sit down."

He pulled away from her again and asked, "What?" with a smile when he saw she was laughing.

She shook her head, her laugh mixed with tears.

"Saying your _name_," she told him. "_To_ you. It's wonderful."

He took a shuddery breath, emotion hitting him all over again, and he reached for her hand, grateful for her existence.

He pulled her by the hand into the living room and they sat on the sofa. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't here," Anne said mournfully. "I was in such a dark place, but you were too. I wish we had been together. This was the worst time in the world for us to be apart. There's nothing in the world I wanted more than to be with you at the end."

Gilbert had thought that when Anne came back, and knew, he would be strong for her. She had been through so much, and _she _would grieve his father, too, and _he _was going to be the strong one. He'd comfort her through her tears, and tell her everything would be all right. But it didn't turn out that way. It _couldn't _turn out that way. ...He had no idea he would crumble so quickly at the very sight of her.

Now Anne pulled him to her, and he did not try to be strong, did not try to be the protector. Everything he'd been holding back came forward, and he let himself rest against her, feeling comforted by her arms around him and her hand drifting through his curls. Anne did not know how long they sat there. She could feel his eyelashes brushing the inside of her elbow, and her arm was wet with his tears.

When the sunlight that came in through the half-closed shades seemed to change, turning from yellow to a hazy orange, Gilbert finally felt as though he had cried all he could cry, and he straightened himself up out of her embrace. Anne was damp with his tears, and he was about to apologize for it when suddenly the gentlest brush of her lips on his made him forget what he was about to say. It was light and brief and over before he knew it. If he could, he'd have somehow put a pin in that spark and saved it, to have a chance to experience it again, because her kiss ended almost before he even realized it had happened, and he was too late to kiss her back. He wanted so badly to kiss her, too, but he controlled himself- she had pulled away after she'd kissed him, and so he wasn't going to expect anything more.

He couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to, but as his mind was reeling from the unexpected kiss she'd blessed him with, he tried to think of something to say. But before he could think of anything, Anne said:

"I don't want to go, but I left the baby at home."

"Yeah...yeah," he responded, coming back to earth. "...Did you walk here?"

"Yes," Anne said. "And I felt very brave."

"You _are _brave," he whispered, taking her hand. "But are you all right to be out walking around?"

"Gilbert…" Anne trailed off, not liking the reminder that she was soon to be in a lot of trouble with Marilla. In her rash decision to leave the house, she had not only left the baby unattended, but she had left without anyone knowing, and she had walked all the way to Gilbert's house when she was supposed to be taking it easy.

They went out and got into the buggy, hand in hand. As they drove they didn't say much of anything; but Gilbert had to drive with one hand so they could hold each others'.

Once they got to Green Gables, he said to her, "I'm glad you came."

She nodded. "We didn't really talk, though, did we. ...It didn't feel like we _needed _to, though, somehow. Just being in the same room together finally…it seemed like enough, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did," he agreed, and it was true: It did not matter what they said or what they did; they had not been near enough to each other in so long, the fact that they were within arms reach filled every gap and met every need.


	79. A Hidden-Away Baby

I don't know if anyone ever noticed that I put Marilla's bedroom in the wrong place? It was also in the wrong place in my original story.

When I wrote my orginal story...I think because Matthew's room is downstairs, I was thinking Marilla's room was downstairs, too. : (

So that was how I already wrote it and I can't change it now because there were several things that happened that would no longer make sense if I move her room yet again.

Sorry : /

* * *

Marilla suddenly came rushing out the door. "Anne!" she shouted. Anne had a sinking feeling, because Marilla sounded so angry, but what she did not know was that Marilla's anger had been borne out of fear: She'd finished cutting up all the vegetables for the stew, gotten it on the stove, did a little cleaning, and then much later heard Walter fussing. When he didn't seem to be getting picked up and attended to, she finally went in to see what was taking Anne so long, and found her bed empty.

Marilla's worst fear was something Anne could not even imagine. Marilla had the dark thought that Anne- in her depression over what had been done to her, her despair about the baby, and now her grief at the loss of Mr. Blythe- well, what if Anne had done something to herself? Marilla had been praying fervently that whatever she had done, they would not be too late in finding her.

"Matthew's gone out looking for you!" she said, her voice shaking with what Anne assumed to be anger. "We didn't know _what _had happened to you. So Matthew started- well, I better call for him- he needn't keep looking!"

"Matthew! Matthew!" she began to call, walking off.

Anne watched her walk away, her face burning with upset at Marilla's anger with her.

Gilbert squeezed her hand and said quietly, "I'll go look for him, too."

Anne sat down gingerly on the porch step. She was exhausted with her walk, and she was hurting more than she felt she ought to- though she'd never tell Marilla, because she'd be lectured to and maybe even made to let Dr. Carter look. So she sat, breathing through her pain and trying to let herself rest. She felt terrible for what she had just done to Matthew and Marilla.

Matthew hadn't made it far in his walk around the property yet, and she saw the three of them walking back to her shortly. She was surprised Matthew hadn't gone out in the buggy to search for her, until she realized that none of them would have expected her to be able to walk very far.

"I'm sorry," Anne told Matthew and Marilla. "_Really_ I am. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking at all. I just lay there feeling so sad about- about- what happened-" _she did not think she could say Mr. Blythe's name without tears-_ "And suddenly I just _had _to see Gilbert. I couldn't wait."

Marilla was not satisfied with this explanation. "You'd have gotten there quicker if you'd let us _drive _you! And really, walking all that way- what if you'd felt faint and something happened to you? You could have been bleeding out in the middle of a field and not _one _person would have known where you_ were!"_

"I'm sorry," Anne said meekly.

Marilla was not finished with her and said sharply, "You do things without _thinking_, Anne, and it's got to stop! _And _you ran off and left the baby! Didn't you think about how _he _factored into your little adventure?"

"No," Anne said in barely a whisper.

"Well, like it or not, you have a baby now, and you cannot run off like that! What if the poor thing had some sort of problem? _I _certainly wasn't checking on him, because I had no _idea _he'd been left all _alone!"_

"I'm sorry," Anne said again, quieter this time.

Matthew, exhaling, took the handkerchief from his overalls pocket and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "Marilla, she _said _she's sorry."

Anne loved Matthew.

Marilla sighed, looking as if she wanted to say even more, but she decided to let it rest. She looked at Gilbert. "Gilbert, come on in and have dinner with us."

"Oh, I don't have to. Anne just got back, and I don't want to be in the way-"

"Nonsense," Marilla said. "You're always wanted here."

Gilbert looked at Anne. "Is that all right with you, Anne?"

She bit her lip. As much as she wanted him there, the baby was still a source of embarrassment to her. She had been happy to forget Walter and leave to go see Gilbert.

But Gilbert was always in tune with her needs, and he backed off. He didn't know why she looked reluctant about him being there, but he wasn't going to stay if she wasn't comfortable "I don't think I ought to, Miss Cuthbert. But I'll come another time-"

"No," Anne breathed, pleading with him to stay. "No, you _should_."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I _want _you to," she insisted.

But as soon as he stepped into the house, Anne's conflicted expression returned.

"What's wrong?" Gilbert whispered to her.

"It's just...the baby, I uh…"

Gilbert smiled eagerly. "I've been waiting to-"

Anne shook her head emphatically and pulled away from him.

Gilbert's eyes changed to sadness and he looked confused as Anne turned away from him and left to go into Marilla's room.

Gilbert looked at Marilla, who seemed confused as well. Marilla questioned, "Anne, are you bringing him out, or do you want Gilbert to-"

"No," she called out, sounding hurried. "I'll be right there. I just need to change him and then I'll come right back."

When she finished and returned, Marilla said, "Don't you want to bring him out?"

Anne shook her head firmly.

There was silence.

"Well, dinner's ready," Marilla said pleasantly after a moment.

After sitting down and saying grace, Anne jumped up, the idea of eating a meal reminding her that she had to feed her baby, too. She tried to unobtrusively get a pot on the stove without Gilbert seeing what she was doing.

Gilbert wondered why Anne was suddenly putting a pot on the stove to start something new when Marilla already had dinner ready. He did not know what she was doing.

When Marilla said, "Oh, Anne, I fed him just before you got back. When Matthew went out looking for you, I began to look all over the house, and the poor thing started- as _you _would say- 'screaming his head off' because he was hungry. So I got a bottle ready for him, and after he finished drinking it I put him down and kept looking for you."

"All right," Anne whispered, blushing deeply. Everyone thought she was blushing because she was ashamed of how she'd left them, but in truth Anne was embarrassed at Marilla openly referencing the baby in front of Gilbert. She had not known she would feel this way, but suddenly with Gilbert here she found the idea of having her own baby terribly embarrassing.

Gilbert was confused by the references to the bottle and the pot on the stove until he realized that they were feeding the baby that way. He'd never seen a baby fed with a bottle, and he wondered why they did that. But considering the way he knew babies were _normally _fed, he did not plan to ask Anne any questions about that particular subject.

Once Anne sat down at the table, the mood lightened and they have good dinner together- until, toward the end of dinner, the room was pierced by a loud cry from the bedroom.

Anne froze and again blushed scarlet. She threw down her napkin and practically ran from the table.

There was another silence. Gilbert asked Matthew and Marilla, "Is she always like this when he needs something?"

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other. "No," Marilla said, thoroughly confused.

Gilbert nodded slowly. _Oh. It's me. **I'm** the problem,_ he realized.

After dinner, Marilla said, "Anne, why don't you bring him out now, so Gilbert can see him?"

Anne's face once again turned red, and she was looking everywhere but at Gilbert's eyes.

Gilbert did not understand what the problem was, but as Anne _clearly _was not in favor of him seeing her baby, he said quickly, "You know, I'd love to, but I better be getting on home. Maybe another day?"

He noticed Anne let out a breath, looking relieved.

She walked with Gilbert out to his buggy to say goodbye, asking him if he could come back tomorrow. He was just glad she wanted him there.

When she returned, Marilla asked, "What was _that_ all about?"

"Nothing," Anne said defensively. "I just didn't see any reason to drag Walter out of bed, that's all."

Marilla watched, confused, as Anne went back into the room with Walter. She followed her in, intending to question her further about her odd behavior. But then, looking at Anne, she instead commented, "You look exhausted. Into bed now. I still cannot believe you walked as far as you did. I wonder if I should get Dr. Carter. Are you in any pain?"

"No," Anne said. It was only half-true. She hoped that if she rested a bit, she'd feel better. "I feel all right, I think. Or, I will. Maybe I'm just tired."

Marilla tucked her into bed, worrying about her. "You tell me right away if you notice any changes, any bleeding, or anything like that. All right?"

Anne nodded sleepily.

Marilla glanced over at Walter. He seemed to be all right. She left her babies and went back into the kitchen to get started on the dishes.


	80. Gilbert Meets Anne's Baby

The next day, Gilbert asked eagerly, "Can I see the baby today?"

He hoped that whatever the problem was yesterday, that Anne would have had a change of heart today. But Anne immediately shook her head. "He's sleeping," she explained.

Gilbert tried to convince her: "I can be quiet. I won't wake him up."

Anne said slowly, "No…the floor squeaks...so if I bring you in there...he might wake up."

Gilbert was sad- he could easily tell that this was a made up reason, and she was just against him seeing the baby, so he did not ask again...

...Until the next day, when he said, "I wish you'd let me see the baby, Anne. I don't know why you won't."

Anne had no response to that, but when the baby made noises, she left Gilbert to go to him, and worried Gilbert might try to come with her, she told him sharply, "Don't follow me!"

Gilbert sat back, his face wounded.

Anne saw this, but she felt stuck. "I'm sorry," she pleaded with him not to be angry. "Please...just...stay here- I won't be a minute!"

Gilbert waited on the sofa while Anne took care of the baby. He was racking his brain trying to figure out what the problem was. When Anne returned, Gilbert asked, already knowing he sounded pushy, "Will you at least tell me what he looks like?"

Anne was very annoyed at this point, and told him, "He has a head with a nose and a mouth and two eyes and two ears on it, and he's got two arms and two legs. There. Now you know what he looks like. I hope you're happy with that."

Gilbert stopped asking, but he couldn't help feeling very hurt by Anne's coldness toward him, and Anne, knowing she had hurt him, felt awful.

* * *

The next day, Gilbert had a moment alone with Marilla, and he ventured to ask, "Do you know if there's any particular reason Anne doesn't want me to see the baby? I'm...confused."

Marilla shook her head. "Your guess is as good as mine, I'm afraid. I wish I knew!" Then she confided, "Whenever Anne does move past this, and you _do_ see the baby, I think maybe _your _reaction to him _could _get her on the path to changing her opinion of him. ...For all her talk of how women should be independent, she really does look to you for a fair bit of shepherding- I don't know if you realize how much you do for her, Gilbert."

"I try," he said. "But I don't know what to do sometimes, because I don't always understand her."

Marilla admitted with a bit of a laugh,"I don't always understand her, myself. Lord knows that child can talk and talk, but she isn't always very good at explaining herself."

Gilbert, thinking more about Marilla's statement that Anne took guidance from him, said, "I think it's about equal; I look to her just as much as she does to me- we rely on each other."

"That's nice," Marilla told him with a smile. She patted him on the arm. "Well, as for whatever's wrong now, maybe one or the other of us can get her to explain herself. I'll try to work on her."

* * *

"Can't I _ever_ see him?" Gilbert couldn't help asking after an entire week had gone by. He never thought he'd see her every day, but still not have gotten the chance to see the baby.

Anne did not answer him.

Gilbert pressed, "What about getting married, Anne- how can we live together in the same house, with you hiding him away, and me never seeing him?"

This did not improve Anne's mood. "Well, we're not _getting_ married, so you don't have to think about that."

"Why _not?"_ Gilbert asked despondently.

"Because I can't marry anybody now that I've got a baby."

"Other women are married and have babies," Gilbert pointed out.

"Yes," Anne said. "Babies they had _after_ getting married."

"What's the difference whether you had him _before_ we were married or _after_?" Gilbert pleaded. "It won't matter in the long run."

Anne looked at him. "I think it will." Then she said quietly, "He isn't _yours_."

Gilbert did not know what to say to that statement. He felt sad. He stumbled through his thoughts: "I _know_ that. And if you don't want _me_ to…look, I won't _interfere_\- if that's what you want?"

"It isn't that," Anne told him. "I don't know _what_ it is. …It just won't work out!"

"So you'll never get married?"

She shook her head firmly.

Gilbert could not change her mind, so he didn't argue. He just hoped she'd eventually come around and see that they could get married after all. He went back to the subject of seeing the baby: "But why don't you let me see the baby now? You can't keep him hidden away _forever_ can you? He's going to grow up and play outside and go to school..."

Anne snapped at him, "You can't see him and _stop asking!"_

Gilbert felt like he'd been bitten, but conceded, saying quietly, "All right…I was thinking, do you want to start doing school work together maybe?"

Anne bit her lip, feeling terrible for the way she'd snapped at him. "_Gilbert_," she tried to explain, "I'm...I'm _sorry_. It's just…it's _embarrassing_."

Gilbert looked surprised. "Why is it embarrassing?"

Anne looked uncomfortable. "I don't know, it just _is!"_

"Is something wrong with the baby? Because that doesn't mean _you_ did anything wrong; things like that just happen sometimes."

Anne sighed. "No, nothing's wrong with him…he's fine. In fact, he's perfect."

But her eyes became wet with tears upon the word _perfect_.

Gilbert tried to reach out to take her hand, but Anne pulled away from him.

"What _is _it?" Gilbert asked.

It was a moment before Anne could say anything. Finally she admitted, quietly, "I don't like the way his face looks. And I don't like his eyes."

Gilbert stared at her. He understood perfectly what she meant, but he did not know what to say. He sat silent, all kinds of things running through his mind, none of which seemed to be helpful. Finally he said, "He isn't very old, Anne. Looks change over time."

As he struggled to find something else to say, Anne wiped her eyes and said, "I know it's silly to think I can hide him away forever. But, Gilbert, another part of it is…I just hate to have anyone see me with a _baby_."

"Like you felt when you were expecting? You didn't want me to see you then, either."

Anne nodded. "And I thought that was over now, since I'm not blown up like a balloon anymore. Well...I'm not back to how I _was_, but at least I'm not blown up like a balloon! But walking around holding my _baby_…a baby that came from me…ugh, it's even _more_ embarrassing somehow! I just dread the thought of somebody looking at me _with him._"

"But I'm not a somebody," Gilbert insisted.

This made Anne laugh.

She was quiet a moment, then said: "All right. …I'll think about it. Maybe next time?"

And then she smiled at him, letting him know that things would be all right.

* * *

But the next day when he came, Anne felt shy. When she delayed bringing the baby out yet again, _Marilla _decided she'd enough of that and said, "Anne, _get _the baby and _let Gilbert meet him."_

"He's sleeping," Anne said flatly.

Marilla was firm. "He isn't sleeping, Anne. You _know_ he isn't! Now go and get him."

Anne did not move.

"Anne-" Marilla began.

But Anne interrupted, pleading with Marilla- almost _whining- _"But I don't _want _to get him up out of bed. He'll just start _wailing _and he'll _never _stop!"

"That is not true," Marilla told her. "But if you don't want to get him out of bed, fine. Gilbert can look at him in his bed. Now _go_."

When Anne tarried, Marilla gave her a gentle push toward the door, and led Gilbert to it, too. Gilbert hesitated, not wanting to go without Anne's permission, but Marilla was firm about pushing both of them into that room to look at the baby. _This is getting ridiculous, _she thought.

After ushering the two into her room, she shut the door after them. Normally Marilla wouldn't think to send Anne into a bedroom with a boy so they could have privacy. But they were all past that point by now, and she trusted Gilbert completely.

Once the two were in the room, with the door shut firmly behind them, Gilbert said quietly, "Do you want me to sit down?"

"Sure," Anne told him, feeling anxious. "Not _there_," she said when he sat in a hardbacked chair at Marilla's little desk. "Sit on the bed- I'll set him next to you on the bed, and you can look at him that way."

"Oh- all right," Gilbert answered, slightly uncomfortable. But he sat on the bed anyway.

Anne went over to the baby's bed and lifted Walter out of it, blanket and all.

She stood there a minute, her back turned to Gilbert, feeling nervous and embarrassed.

Finally she took a big breath and turned around. Biting her lip, she brought him closer. Gilbert could not see the baby; Anne was holding the blanket over him as if to hide him.

She started to set him on the bed, but Gilbert asked, "Can't I hold him?"

"Oh," she said, surprised. "I didn't know you'd want to."

"Yeah," he said, equally surprised. "I mean, unless _you _don't want me to…?" He was still a bit confused by Anne's feelings regarding him meeting her baby, so perhaps for some reason she didn't want him to _hold _the baby either?

She just stood there in front of him. "You don't _have _to hold him if you don't _want _to," she said.

"Anne it isn't a _chore_," he said with a smile, holding his arms out.

She started to lay him in Gilbert's arms.

"Hey, little guy...I was wondering when I was going to get to meet you," Gilbert said softly, as he took the knitted bundle from her.

Anne blushed.

The blanket had fallen over the baby as Anne had moved him, so Gilbert had to pull it back to get his first glimpse at Walter's face.

Anne, who'd been terribly embarrassed, could not help smiling just a little bit when she saw that Gilbert's face had changed entirely upon seeing her baby, and he was glowing with pure _enchantment_.

Walter had been stirred from his rest when Anne picked him up, and now he sleepily opened his eyes and gazed upward.

Anne had thought Gilbert would hand the baby back to her after he looked at it, but he didn't. "Aren't you going to sit down?" he asked her, the baby still in his arms.

She finally sat on the bed next to him.

Gilbert scooted back against the headboard.

After a moment Anne scooted back to lean against it, too.

Gilbert's eyes never left the baby. "It's crazy how tiny they are, isn't it?"

Anne told him, "He used to be even smaller."

"Did he?" Gilbert asked with a smile, knowing that of _course _he had- he'd been born nearly two months ago.

"Yeah," Anne said. "The doctor said he weighed an ounce under six pounds when he was born."

Gilbert said- still staring at her baby- "Well, he's a mighty little one _now_, isn't he?" He laughed as the baby grabbed his finger and held tightly to him.

Anne watched him with interest.

Gilbert couldn't see why _anything _about this baby was unpleasant. Gilbert was glowing with the sort of pride and joy that _Anne _ought to have had, being his mother. "It's exciting," he told her.

"No, it isn't," came her soft response.

Gilbert finally looked up at her. Seeing her underwhelmed expression, he reached out his arm as an invitation, and she moved to be under it. She rested her head against his shoulder and they sat there, against the headboard, the baby still held snugly by Gilbert's other arm.

After a couple minutes, Walter began to fuss.

"Uh oh, I guess he wants his mama," Gilbert said with a bit of a laugh.

Anne took the baby and laid him in the space between them. She unwrapped the blanket from him, saying, "I think he's too hot."

"You do?" Gilbert asked.

He smiled at seeing her understand what her baby wanted.

"Yes," she said, unwrapping the blanket from him and lifting his legs out of it. "He likes to be able to move his arms and legs."

Gilbert smiled at the baby now waving its little arms and legs. He laughed a bit as he put his hand out and Walter caught his finger in his chubby little fists. "For being little, he sure is strong," Gilbert said.

Anne finally smiled, finding it sweet to see Gilbert delighting in the baby.

After a moment, Gilbert looked over at her and asked softly, "So how's everything been going? I mean really? We haven't talked about this-" he gestured down to little Walter- "because you seemed to want to avoid the subject, so…"

Anne looked at him and sighed. "It's harder than I thought it would be."

Gilbert nodded. "Nighttime feedings and no sleep and all that?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. Marilla has been helping me with everything. It's just…"

She shook her head as if she couldn't explain herself. She looked at her baby. She picked up his foot and then let go of it, watching him kick at the air. "It's just _hard_," she said. "To _look _at him and know where he _came _from and...and just that I have him at _all_, really. I can't believe it sometimes. A baby. _Me_." She shook her head as if pulling herself out of the feeling.

Gilbert looked at her with pride. "I think you're amazing," he said. "Facing insurmountable odds and rising to the challenge."

Anne smiled, but shook her head. "Well, it isn't as if I had a _choice_."

"Not about what happened, you didn't, and not about having him. But surviving, you know? Other people might've _crumbled..._you have so much strength about you, Anne."

"I don't _feel_ strong," Anne said with a sigh, leaning against him again. "And I _sure_ didn't feel strong when I had to _have_ him. ...I think there was more crying from me than from the baby."

"That awful, huh?" he murmured, squeezing her close.

Anne blushed, not sure how much to tell him about what childbirth had been like.

She said finally, "I don't know how other women keep getting _through _that- and some nearly every year! All the while, I kept thinking about how Mrs. Lynde had ten children! To go through that _ten times! _I barely survived it once!"

"Well, you'll never have to go through it again," he told her, but it was a promise that came with a sad smile.

Anne sighed. "Yes, I suppose. But then, I don't know. Maybe _someday_…no. No, right _now _I can't imagine ever having any more."

That made Gilbert sad, because he really _did_ want a family with Anne someday. But after what she'd been through, he felt he'd be selfish to put his desire for a family above her sense of safety. All he said was, "If you ever decide to, at least you know it won't be for many, many years."

"Good," Anne said with a smile. "Maybe it'll be long enough to where I'll forget just how terrible it was, and I'll go into it with a nice big lovely dose of naivety."

That made Gilbert laugh.


	81. First Visitors

It was helpful that Anne finally allowed Gilbert to see the baby- It was good practice, because Gilbert was only the first of the stream of visitors she would receive.

Emily came with Clara, which was actually a fun visit for Anne, because she found it interesting to watch the two babies interact with each other.

Clara was now eleven months old while Walter was just two months, but they both seemed to think it was fun to see each other.

Walter focused intently on Clara, intrigued because he had never seen another baby, and he eventually laughed and laughed, waving his arms in the air and kicking his feet.

"Oh, Anne, he's already laughing!" Emily said, surprised. "Clara didn't laugh until she was four months old. Two months is _early!_ How _charming_; when did you first hear it?"

"Right_ now_," Anne said in amazement. "He's never done it before."

And Anne felt some strange sort of feeling she could not put a name to. She continued watching Clara and Walter interact, and listened to Walter's laughing as he was delighted with his new friend.

Clara seemed to like him, too, until out of curiosity she poked him in the nose, making him cry. But adorably, when she saw him crying, she leaned in and kissed his face.

The kiss did not make Walter feel better, but once Anne picked him up and held him, he stopped crying, and then when he was happy again, he focused his attention back on Clara.

When Emily took Clara home, Anne sat looking at her baby for a long time, thinking about things.

* * *

One day- a day that should have been glorious- Diana came. But it was slightly short of glorious, because her mother made the visit far more formal than friendly.

Anne was sewing in the parlor, Walter in his basket next to her, her when Diana and Mrs. Barry showed up.

She was so excited to see Diana from the window, but when she saw that Mrs. Barry was with her, she quickly straightened up the room and wiped the drool from Walter's chin before she let them in.

Anne did not feel embarrassed to show Diana her baby, but she did feel embarrassed in front of Mrs. Barry.

The two sat stiffly on the sofa. Anne could clearly see that Mrs. Barry had told Diana to contain herself- Diana was bursting to talk freely, but instead she sat composed, her hands folded in her lap.

"We can't stay long," Mrs. Barry said with a sniff. "But Diana wanted to see you and give you a little gift."

Diana held out a yellow knitted blanket, folded up and tied with a pink ribbon around it.

"Oh, Diana, thank you," Anne said, wishing so badly she could hug her friend, but fearful to do anything that might cause Mrs. Barry to decide she shouldn't allow Diana to see her.

"You're welcome," Diana said politely. "I worked on it every day you were gone, and I thought about you all the time."

Anne could have cried from knowing that.

Diana asked, "Can I hold the baby?"

"Yes," Anne said, with a glance at Mrs. Barry. She lifted Walter out of his basket and put him on Diana's lap.

Instead of watching Diana hold Walter, Anne watched Mrs. Barry.

Diana had him no more than two minutes when Mrs. Barry said, "All right, Diana, put him down and say goodbye. We must go now."

Diana protested: "But, Mother, we've only been here-"

"I told you that you could give Anne her gift, and you have," Mrs, Barry said firmly. "And now it's time to go."

Anne was sad. "_Wait_," she said. "I have a gift for you, too."

She put Walter in his basket and went to get something out of the cabinet where Matthew and Marilla had their books.

She handed Diana a flat envelope. "I'm sorry it's not wrapped," she said.

Diana opened it slowly so as not to tear the envelope. "You didn't have to give me anything, Anne. But it's very kind of you."

"I wanted to bring you something from while I was in New Brunswick," Anne said with a quick little glance at Mrs. Barry. She avoided saying anything about _why _she had gone to New Brunswick, since- despite everyone knowing exactly why she had gone- it was something to remain unspoken.

"Sheet music!" Diana exclaimed. "Oh, thank you, Anne."

"There's two of them," Anne said as Diana looked at them. "And they're both new songs, too. Marilla picked them out for you at a store. I would have picked them out myself, but I couldn't get out much because-" Anne stopped talking, not wanting Diana's first visit to also be her last.

"Oh, Anne, what a nice gift. I can't wait to play them! Maybe once I've learned them, you can come over for tea, and I'll play them for you."

Anne's smile was big and genuine.

Diana looked at her mother. "Can we? Mother?"

"I think that would be suitable," Mrs. Barry said carefully, thinking that she actually preferred Anne coming to her house, as it meant she'd be able to keep an ear out for what Anne was telling her daughter. "But you'll have to make arrangements for the care of your...baby...while you're at our house."

Diana's face fell. She'd been hoping Anne could bring Walter over with her so they could play with him and dress him up.

After Diana left, Anne took the ribbon off the blanket. As she opened the blanket up, a letter fell out from between its folds.

Anne stared at it with excitement. Diana's letter was thick enough that it could never have been sent through the mail without a lot of extra postage.

Anne ran to look out the window at Mrs. Barry and Diana leaving.

Mrs. Barry was walking briskly, but Diana was still turning backward to look at Green Gables. When she saw Anne in the window, she smiled.

Anne grinned, waving the letter at her, and then went excitedly back into the parlor to read it.

* * *

Ruby's visit with her mother went much the same way.

Anne was overjoyed that Ruby wanted to be her friend, and that Mrs. Gillis would allow it, but she hoped that someday she'd be free to just have her friends come over without the mothers making it a formal affair.

Anne hoped she'd get to see Tillie and Jane, too, but Tillie hadn't come yet and she assumed that Jane would not be allowed to.

* * *

_One day, much later, two boys came to the door, but Anne saw that they were turned away, and she asked Walter why he didn't want to go out with his friends._

_"Baseball doesn't seem like that much fun anymore, somehow," he said. "I still play at school during the break, but after school I'd rather go fishing or rowing with Clara. ...If she'll still go. Clara's always been fussy about how she looks, but it's gotten worse lately, Mum; she won't do anything that might mess up her hair or get her dress dirty."_

_He tossed his dirty baseball onto the sofa, and then retrieved it quickly when he saw his mother's expression._

_"Anyway, I want to stay home because you told me Aunt Jane was coming from Winnipeg this afternoon, and I don't want to miss her getting here."_

* * *

Another day, when Anne heard a knock at the door, she picked her baby up and said, "Let's go see who it is now, Walter."

Walter began a steady stream of babbling.

Anne opened the door to find Jane on her front porch.


	82. Jane's Adoration

Seeing Walter laughing with Clara the other day had stirred something in Anne. Not the feelings a _mother _ought to have, exactly, but the visit _had _prompted in her a little bit more interest in her baby.

And hearing him laugh had helped her to see that- for now, at least- his babyish giggles did not sound like anything like Billy's cruel laugh. Walter sounded like any other baby would, and that relieved some of her fears.

But Anne was still far away from love. She would not _always _be...but it would take time.

When Jane showed up at her door, Anne was carrying Walter, and she instantly blushed scarlet and told Jane, "Come in," as she quickly hurried Walter away.

Jane was breathless at the sight of the baby and longed for a better look, but Anne quickly rushed him into Marilla's room and set him in his bed.

Walter, bewildered by being suddenly dumped into his bed and left alone in the room with the door shut, began to squall loudly.

Anne tried very hard to ignore his noises as Jane came into the parlor.

Anne had now had a few visitors- Gilbert, Emily, Diana, and Ruby- but Jane was _different_. Jane had fought for Anne, defended her, gotten Billy to leave, and shown true loyalty to her. And Anne loved her for it. But Jane was still a part of the Andrews family, and if Anne was hesitant about _other _people seeing Walter, that feeling was ten times stronger when she thought of anyone with the name _Andrews _laying eyes on Walter.

Jane looked confused about Anne's disposal of the baby until her eyes changed and she realized that the reason Anne had scurried away with the baby and shut him up in a room was because she did not want her to see him.

And then Jane's eyes were wet. She sniffled.

"_Jaaane_," Anne said.

"What?" Jane asked miserably.

Anne knew why Jane was upset, and suddenly she felt such a feeling of depression settle in her own chest, knowing that she'd made Jane feel terrible, but feeling stuck because as bad as she'd made Jane feel, she still did not want to show Jane the baby. Her shoulders slumped and she thought she would cry too.

And then suddenly Jane hugged her.

Anne was surprised by Jane's arms around her. Jane squeezed her so tight she couldn't breath, and finally Anne laughed because she was out of air and had to pull away.

"All right," Anne said with a sigh. "Come on."

Jane could not hide her delight at the baby, despite Anne's less than joyful presentation of it. She began to ask if she could pick the baby up, but her arms had scooped him up before the words were even out of her mouth.

She welcomed him with more warmth than Anne ever had. She stroked his downy head and chubby hands as if he were a pet, and then she pulled him closer and nuzzled him, taking a deep breath of his baby powdery smell.

"Oh, Anne, he's just _wonderful_," she sighed.

Anne did not feel as enthused, but she was glad when someone liked him.

But with a sigh, she said- telling Jane her honest thoughts that she had not even told Gilbert, "Jane...don't...don't be _too _attached to him. I...I thought about maybe- him going- somewhere else."

_"Really?" _Jane asked, not understanding how anyone could want to be separated from this precious creature.

"Well...the thing is," she explained slowly, "There was a Children's Home that agreed to take him, but they said I had to keep him until he was two months old, because they won't _take _infants under two months. And, he's...he's just _turned _two months old, so I don't really _have _to keep him now. And, well...I...I don't know how I _feel _about him, and…and when he first came, I thought about finding a _family _for him to go to, but I was so _tired_, and so I decided to wait until we came home and I felt better, and…"

"Do you _have _to give him away?" Jane gasped. "I wish you would keep him!"

Anne did not know what to say. "Well, I haven't found anyone yet," she explained. "I haven't even looked. And I don't really want to leave him at a Children's Home. So I might _have _to keep him."

Jane finally pulled her gaze from the baby and looked at Anne. "Maybe _we_ could take him! I know my parents will say no at first, but maybe I could _convince _them!"

"No," Anne said right away. "I'd have to go over to your house, and I can't."

"Then maybe I could bring him to our-"

"Jane, they don't _want _to see him. You _know _they don't! Why do you think they'd want to _keep _him?"

"I just thought that maybe once they actually _saw _him…" Jane sighed, her eyes lingering on the baby.

Walter yawned suddenly, his mouth opening wider than Anne had ever seen, and Jane melted. "Oh, _Anne…_"

Anne sat down in the chair by the window, content to let Jane moon over her baby. Then _she _didn't have to.

Finally Jane came over and sat down next to Anne. She was still holding the baby.

Jane didn't say anything for several minutes as she looked at his fluttery eyelashes and round cheeks and button nose.

Finally Anne began to smile, not at the baby but at Jane's response to it.

Jane sighed again, for the millionth time. "I wish you had photographs taken of him," she said, "So I could have one to keep. ...Especially since he might go away somewhere and I'll never see him again!"

Anne was surprised to see Jane with tears in her eyes, and she came to the uncomfortable realization that _Jane's _excitement over the baby was not the same as _Gilbert's _excitement over the baby. Gilbert loved the baby because he loved Anne, and it had come from her. But Jane wasn't looking at Walter as being her _friend's _child- she was looking at Walter as being her _brother's _child.

Anne bit her lip. She did not know how to feel about this. "I'm going to go get his bottle ready," she said quietly, an excuse to leave the room. "And you can feed him."

"Oh, can I?" Jane replied, delighted as Anne walked away from her.

When she returned, she handed the bottle to Jane and showed her the right way to hold it, to prevent gas build up.

"Why does he eat with a bottle?" Jane asked.

Anne paused. "I don't know," she finally answered. "They just gave me bottles to feed him with, so I did. I never asked why."

Jane nodded. "Oh," she responded, but Anne could tell she was curious about it.

Anne said, "We have to send away for packets of a mix, and we make it on the stove. It costs a lot."

"Do you need more money?" Jane asked. "I could tell my mother and father that he needs more money to pay for his food."

Anne shook her head. "No, they'd just say it was my problem, not theirs."

"No, they wouldn't!" Jane said, surprised. "They sent the extra money for the boarding house, didn't they?"

Anne frowned. "I thought Marilla and Matthew paid our cost of living there from the money your parents gave us originally...they gave us _more?"_

Jane nodded. "Yes, they were paying the rent every week. I saw the checks and the postmarked letters they sent."

"No one ever told _me_ that…" Anne was confused as to why this had been kept from her. "And why didn't we just use the money they _already _gave us?"

"I don't know," Jane answered. "But I remember them writing to inquire about the rent, and then they were paying it separately. And we got the bill from the doctor, too."

Anne was not angry, but felt she might _become _angry. She did not know why this had happened or why no one had told her.

"Anne," Jane said, seeing her face, "Probably no one wanted to upset you- in case it would have."

"But why would they keep on paying for things, even after giving me a lump sum?"

Jane shrugged. "I don't know. But I know that if you need something, you can tell me. They'll pay for it. I know they will."

Anne felt put out by this and intended to ask Marilla and Matthew about it later.

She sat down beside Jane and watched her feeding Walter. "I guess you really like him," she said finally.

"Of course I do," Jane said, enraptured.

Anne wished Jane _could _keep the baby, if she really was that joyful over it. She knew that she herself had developed a little more interest in her baby, but she just couldn't seem to muster up the sort of feeling for him that other people had.

When he had finished his bottle, Anne took Walter back to burp him.

Jane watched with interest. "_Now_ what are you going to do with him?" she asked.

"Put him back," Anne said, motioning to his bed. For the most part, whenever she had met her baby's needs, she put him back down in his bed or basket or a blanket on the floor with Jane's rabbit, because she did not really want to hold him any more than necessary.

"Can't _I_ hold him?" Jane begged.

"Oh, all right," Anne said, pushing him onto her.

"Isn't he just perfect? Oh, _Anne_, look at his little toes!" Jane crooned.

"I've seen them," Anne told her.

"And his belly's all full of milk. He looks so full and sleepy. Isn't it sweet? Look at his tummy."

"I've seen that, too," Anne told her.

"Aw, look at his little chin, he still has milk on it," Jane went on.

Anne leaned over and matter-of-factly swiped at his chin, to remove the milk she'd missed.

Then she yanked Walter's booties onto his feet.

That only made Jane start crooning over his booties, saying, "It must be such _fun _to have all these sweet little baby clothes! They're just _precious_."

"They were a lot of work," Anne said practically.

Jane watched with delight as Walter's eyes began to droop.

"He's going to go to sleep!" she whispered excitedly.

That was one thing Anne could get on board with- being excited when Walter went to sleep.

Jane melted when Walter's eyes began to close. She watched as he struggled to open them several times before finally surrendering to sleep.

"Why does he fight his sleep like that?" she asked, curious.

Anne glanced at him. "I don't know. He doesn't like to go to sleep, I guess."

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head on them. She watched Jane holding the baby.

Jane's gaze never left Walter, even when he was fast asleep.

"You can set him down anytime you want to," she said.

Jane didn't look at Anne at all. "I love how his little eyelashes flutter."

Anne nodded.

"I wonder if his eyes will change color," Jane thought out loud. "Sometimes babies do, you know."

Anne just nodded again.

"Do you think he'll have red hair like yours?" Jane asked.

Anne shrugged. "I don't know."

Jane finally looked up at her. "Do you ever wish you'd had a girl instead? I thought maybe you were disappointed he was a boy. Maybe you'd have more fun with a little girl."

Anne shook her head. "It doesn't make any difference to me. I might not even keep him."

"Oh, right," Jane remembered, her shoulders sagging.

Anne did not want Jane to feel so sad. She said, "But remember, I don't have anywhere he can _go_. I don't really _want_ him to go to a Children's Home. So I might be keeping him after all. ...You can come over and babysit him, if you want to."

Jane perked up.

"I'll pay you, too," Anne said. "I ought to- he's a lot of work!"

"Oh, I don't think it'll feel like work _at all! _It'll be _delightful_. I can't wait. ...Anyway, it would be silly to pay me. Wouldn't the money be coming from my own parents, anyway?"

"Right…" Anne replied, not liking that reminder. "Well, anyway, if you want to come see him, you can."

Jane did not want to put him down. "I love how his tummy goes up and down when he breathes."

Anne did not see how that was special; everyone's body moved when they breathed.

"Can I see the rest of his clothes?" Jane asked. "Can I pick out something else for him to wear?"

"Sure," Anne shrugged. She got up and scooped his clothes out of the drawer. She dumped them onto the bed in front of Jane. "Here you go. Play dolls with him all you want."

Jane was delighted to look through all the baby clothes, and acted as if she _was _playing with a doll. She did not actually change his outfit, because he was sleeping and it might have woken him up, but she held up various articles of clothing to him and decided which she liked the best. She changed his booties, because that wouldn't wake him, and she tied a bonnet to his head.

"Oh, Anne, just look at him!" Jane exclaimed excitedly after she'd put the bonnet on.

Anne was starting to get tired of Jane's fussing over her baby.


	83. Conversation

Jane's visit was so much that I just couldn't finish it last night, so here is the rest.

* * *

Anne was tired of how stuck on the baby Jane seemed to be, and she thought about pretending she had a headache so that Jane would have to go home. But with a sigh she realized, _If I say I have a headache, she'll just offer to stay here and hold him for me so that I can rest._

Jane acted as if nothing in the world existed except for Walter. And the longer Anne watched her, the more she started to feel sorry for him. _Poor little thing. I suppose Jane can stay after all. He really ought to have people who make him think he's the best baby in the world, because I certainly can't. ...If I was a good ten years older when I had a baby- **after** I'd been to school and worked as a teacher- and if I was married to someone I **loved**\- oh, I won't even pretend, I **know** that's Gilbert!- and **he** and I had Walter together, as our own baby, then I'm sure I'd be over the moon about him just as Jane is, and I'd be adoring every eyelash and every one of his little toes, and...oh, poor Walter. It isn't **his** fault I don't love him._

Jane interrupted her thoughts, asking hesitantly, "If you find somewhere else for him to go, do you think…."

"What?"

"Do you think you might ask the family if I can visit him?" Jane asked, hardly daring to hope.

"I don't know if they'd let you."

"But would you _ask _them? _Please?"_ Jane pressed.

"Yes, I will. I suppose it'll make a difference that you're his...his _aunt_," Anne admitted. "If you were of no relation, I don't suppose they'd say yes."

"His _aunt_," Jane breathed. "I've been _thinking _that all the time, but I'd never have dared _say _it, because I thought it would upset you."

"It doesn't upset me that you're his aunt," Anne said. "It upsets me that you being his aunt means your brother is his father."

Jane nodded slowly, looking down at the floor, avoiding Anne's eyes. Her face was troubled. "I suppose we _can't _say I'm his aunt, then," she said, her cheeks growing pink with shame. "Because it'll always drudge up bad memories for you. And he won't understand _how _I could be his aunt, unless he _knows_...and of course he _can't _know."

Anne felt bad for her. "You can still be his aunt," she said slowly, thinking. "He can call _all _my friends 'aunt'. Aunt Jane, Aunt Ruby, Aunt Tillie, Aunt Diana. Then he won't make the connection that you being his aunt means...anything...else."

Jane nodded. "Thank you," she said quietly. She wanted to be his aunt, and she wanted to be his aunt for real, and his only one- but she could not expect to.

Anne squeezed Jane to her side, knowing that Jane still felt a tremendous amount of guilt for something that had not even been her fault. "I'm glad we can still be friends, Jane."

Jane smiled at her, feeling only a little bit better. But she asked mournfully, "Does it hurt terribly to have a baby? I tried to ask my mother if having a baby was very painful, and she said she wasn't going to answer such questions."

"It does," Anne said honestly. "It was the worst thing I've ever been through in my life. Well, the second worst thing," she corrected herself. "It was awful and I thought for sure I'd die. It's a wonder I didn't."

"Oh, Anne, I'm _sorry_," Jane said with as much conviction as if she herself had caused Anne's pain. She looked down at Walter sleeping peacefully in her arms. "No wonder you aren't settled on keeping him."

Anne shrugged. "He isn't a bad baby. He's all right, and there's bound to be someone out there who will love him the way I ought to."

Jane said softly, "_I_ love him! Oh, I wish my family could keep him!"

She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on the heirloom birth certificate propped up against Marilla's dresser. "Ooh, is that his birth certificate?"

Anne nodded. "One of them. Marilla wants to get a frame for it. That's why it's just laying there."

"He has two?" Jane asked curiously.

She took a closer look. The mother's side was all filled out, but the father's side was empty. She bit her lip.

She could not ask.

But Anne knew what she was thinking. "The doctor didn't write Billy's name on that. But they're tricking me! That's not his _real _certificate. I saw the copy of the _real _one among our things when Marilla was unpacking Look, I'll show it to you."

She got up and walked out to Marilla's rolltop desk. "See?" she said, when she'd found the place they'd hidden it. "This is the _real _one."

"Oh," Jane replied.

"Yes. They gave me a fancy one to avoid me seeing _this_," Anne said knowingly.

Jane read the real one.

Anne, looking over her shoulder, noticed something for the first time. Walter's name, printed right above Billy's, made her unhappy, because the certificate did not say Billy, but William. She frowned. "I just noticed their names look alike."

Jane said quickly, "No, they don't."

"Yes, they do. They both start with W. And Walter is printed right above William...William and Walter. It looks like they go together, all matchy-matchy."

Jane bit her lip. "I don't think Walter and William look like they go together _at all,_" she lied. Then she spoke up, trying to sound brighter, "Anyway, the _pretty_ one doesn't have his name on it at _all_. That's better, isn't it?"

Anne hated being so pessimistic, but she could not look on the bright side of this, either. "No," she told Jane flatly, "Because all it does is draw attention to what _isn't _there. My side is all filled out, and the other side is just a big empty white space- I can't _not _see it!"

Jane had an idea: "When you get married, _Gilbert _can be his father. Then it won't be blank anymore."

Anne just stared at her. "That's not whose baby it is." She looked disdainfully at Walter. "And no matter how much I _wish _it was Gilbert, it isn't."

Jane hated to see Anne so sad. She missed the Anne she'd known before, the one who peppered off excited ideas and beautiful dreams and made her laugh.

"Do you still want to marry him? I think you and Gilbert would have the most beautiful courtship….It must be nice to know someone loves you so much."

"I go back and forth," Anne answered quietly. "I want to, but sometimes it feels impossible to me. Anyway, I don't know how much _courting _there'll be. When one has a baby, the whole courting process seem a bit pointless!"

Jane could see that. And they'd already grown so close anyway- what else was there to wait on?

Anne told her, "If things were normal- no Walter!- we'd both go to Queens once we finished school, and we'd probably court sometime after Queens when we were both working in our teaching careers. ...But _I_ won't be accepted to Queens now. _Gilbert's _still planning to go, though. ...I suppose we could get married after he finishes, when he's a teacher- he intends to work as a teacher to help pay his way through medical school," she explained to Jane. "...Maybe we ought to wait till he's finished with medical school, actually."

Jane agreed. "If you get married too soon, you could have more mouths to feed than you're ready for!"

Anne shook her head. "We won't have any children. I mean, more. Walter will be it."

Jane did not ask, out of being polite, but Anne could tell she was curious.

Anne decided to explain: "I can't..._do_ that. What happened. I just _can't_."

Jane said- awkwardly- "I didn't know."

Anne could not explain her terror of the whole thing to Jane. She could not explain how even the thought of it made her panic. The nightmares she had, even now, were too awful to share with anyone. "That's just what happens sometimes," she whispered.

Anne looked away from her and glanced back at Walter. "As for having more children," she said, more for Jane's feelings than her own, "Walter's an all right baby, if I'm stuck with him. I'd rather have children with _Gilbert_, but I didn't get to choose."

Anne needed to change the subject before she made her depression even worse, and she asked Jane, "What's the new teacher like?"

Jane was caught off guard. Anne would have _loved _the new teacher. But wanting to avoid Anne feeling she was missing out, she said carefully, "Oh...she's all right, I suppose. She's a little different."

"It's so strange," Anne commented. "To think a new school year's begun. Everyone back sitting in their little desks, doing their same work, having lunchtime and studying spelling words…"

Jane wondered- "_Could_ you come back? Miss Cuthbert seems so willing to help you, and since he's bottle fed, you're not bound to stay right by his side all day."

Anne shook her head. "They don't allow that. You can't have a baby and go back to school."

Jane felt angry. "It isn't _fair _ you can't come back. It's as if you're being punished for what someone else did."

Anne looked down at Walter and said softly, "Fair or not, that's just the way things turned out for me." She touched Walter's fluttery eyelashes as she said, "You know, _men _don't have to consider consequences of things the way _women _do, and it isn't fair! He'd never have done this at all if _he_ was the one who'd have to take care of our baby-" And then a shuddery breath escaped her, and she _hated _herself for calling Walter '_our_ baby'. She found she could not even _look_ at the baby after saying that, and she quickly glanced away, her eyes wet.

...She'd made everything so much worse with just two small words.

_There's no 'our' about it,_ she silently told herself. _Don't ever, ever, ever say that again._

After steadying herself, she went on, "You know, I miss school, but mostly I feel bad for Marilla and Matthew…I thought that when I became a teacher, I could _help _them. But now I'll depend on them more than ever!"

Jane leaned on her, squeezing her close. "That's what families are _supposed _to be, Anne- everybody doing what they can for each other. Everybody full of love and kindness, and...trust me...you have the _best _family in the world."

"But I _take _so much and don't give them _anything_," Anne said, feeling sorry.

"You do a lot of things for them," Jane told her. "I heard Mrs. Lynde tell someone in church that Miss Cuthbert has been '_a new creation_' ever since _you _came."

"Really?" Anne asked in wonder. Then her eyes looked suspicious. "Wait- did she seem to mean it in a _good _way or a _bad _way?"

Jane laughed. "In a _good _way. Mrs. Lynde said to Mrs. Strope after the service, '_For all Marilla acts exasperated with that child, she's never been happier'_. We were right behind her, so I heard every word!"

"I find _that _hard to believe," Anne commented. "It seems she's always scolding me for one thing or another. I'm always making mistakes. I don't _mean _to, but I can't seem to keep myself out of mix ups! I suppose the good thing is that I hardly ever make the same mistake twice...but," she said with a sigh- "I just find _new _ones!"

"Well, Mrs. Lynde said that Miss Cuthbert doesn't come out with her true feelings much. It isn't her way. But she said that...wait- wait, I want to make sure I say it _exactly _right-" Jane tried to remember the words Mrs. Lynde had spoken in church all those months ago. "She said,_ 'It seems there was an Anne-shaped hole in that woman's heart that no one knew was there, not even Marilla herself.' ..._So, you see, Anne, you _do _give them things."

Anne thought she might cry.

When Marilla returned home from her trip into town, she wondered why Anne hugged her so much tighter than usual.

As for Miss Stacy, Jane was right in thinking that Anne would have _loved _her. And soon, Anne would find out for herself what Miss Stacy was like.


	84. more of the story

sorry everybody I really didn't mean to go for like ten days without updating I just was tired bad dreams but I figured out how to fix that and im good now so i finally wrote more of the story and again sorry because i normally wouldnt go ten days without an update!

* * *

"I saw the baby today," Jane announced that evening in the parlor.

No one responded. Her mother hitched up for a moment, before taking a breath and resuming her sewing.

"He's _darling_," Jane went on. "Absolutely _perfect_. ...His name is Walter."

No one but Jane had known the baby's name up to this point- or even that he was a _boy_\- but everyone tried to act as if they had not heard her.

"He looks-"

"Dear," her mother said in a tight voice. "I'm trying very hard to be kind to you, and you are making it difficult."

Her words wounded Jane.

Her father reached out and patted his wife's hand. "It's an unpleasantness we can't seem to get far enough away from."

"Unpleasant?" Jane asked, knowing she was bothering her mother, but not caring. "That sweet, beautiful baby is far from unpleasant. I should ask if I can bring him over here. If you all _saw _him-"

"I have no desire to set eyes on that...that inconvenience," Mr. Andrews spat.

Prissy spoke up. "Jane," she said, "You're upsetting Mother and Father."

Jane ignored that and began again, "I wonder if he'll look like _our_ family. He doesn't look like Anne. He doesn't even have red hair. Of course, he doesn't really have much in the way of hair yet."

Her mother's cheeks were pink. Her father went back to pretending not to hear.

"Anne was having trouble over the name Walter today. When she looked at his birth certificate, she didn't like seeing that Walter starts with the same letter as William."

_That _got the attention of both her parents.

"She has our _son's _name on that bastard's birth certificate?" Mr. Andrews asked angrily.

"Father, you can hardly call him a bastard; you know perfectly well who his father is," Jane said pointedly.

"I don't think Billy's name ought to be on it _at all,_" Mrs. Andrews said softly to her husband, getting upset. "It isn't _right_\- they're not married; Billy has _no_ obligation to her."

Jane moved on from this topic, announcing: "Anne has to use packets of some sort of mix to feed him. It's expensive."

Her mother looked at her. "What do you mean, packets to feed him?"

Jane did not really understand the details, and said, "She can't nurse him, it seems. There's nothing wrong with the baby, so it's her, I suppose. The poor little thing needs some sort of supplement to eat instead. But it costs a _lot_. ...I hope they can keep buying it so he won't go hungry."

Jane saw her mother look at her father. "Well…" her father finally said, carefully, "If they need...assistance, they can certainly let us know."

Jane said, "Why, I thought you said you've no obligation to them!"

"We _don't_," her mother insisted tightly. "And Jane, I think it's time you went to bed. Goodnight."

* * *

Now that Jane had questioned why Walter had to be bottle fed, Anne wondered about this herself.

Normally Anne was always full of questions and wanted to know the 'why' of everything. But ever since Walter had been born, her energy had to go toward simply getting through each day, and she did not often have the energy or the inclination to wonder about things anymore. When she realized this change in herself, she felt sad. She felt almost as if a part of her had died that fateful day last fall, and if she allowed herself to think about it too much, she began to feel she was slipping into a downward spiral.

She remembered now, sometime shortly after the baby had been born, when she was resting- fading in and out of sleep and wake- and she had opened her eyes and sleepily murmured to Marilla, "My bosom's hurting."

Marilla, who was sitting by her side, anxious, had stared down at Anne for a long, quiet moment, seeming terribly conflicted about something.

But finally, seeing the way Anne looked up at her face so trustingly, and how exhausted she looked, and how _childlike _she looked, and thinking of Anne as being her own baby that she must protect, she suddenly smoothed Anne's hair and said softly, "I know. Try to ignore it. It will stop hurting soon."

_Now _Anne realized what Marilla had done:

The pain had stopped, she had never nursed, and her body had stopped trying to.

Because Marilla had made that choice for her.

Now Anne felt a sudden confusion. She did not know if she should feel violated in some way by having that decision made _for _her in a time she had been so tired and unable to think for herself.

But then, thinking about that baby who had been forced upon her unwillingly, she decided that Marilla's violation was not as damaging to her as the violation she would feel if she had been forced to nurse.

_Someday_\- when she was much older, and married, with that first baby she and Gilbert had longed for, she would feel that nursing a baby was a beautiful act of love.

But right now she wasn't that person. Right now she was still a young girl who'd had every bit of bodily privacy taken away from her.

She did not feel bitter at Marilla for her decision.

* * *

"How long am I going to stay in your room?" Anne asked that night as she got into bed.

Marilla moved the extra pillows she'd gotten from the spare room to Anne's side and stacked them behind her. Anne did not want to sleep on her stomach, but she could not lay flat on her back without nightmares, so Marilla had gotten the idea to use three or four pillows to prop up her entire upper body so she wasn't lying so flatly on the bed. It had helped Anne's nightmares immensely, and she had begun to sleep better at night, leaving her with more energy during the day.

"I thought you'd stay in my room until Walter begins to sleep through the night. Right now we get up together and take care of him, but once he's sleeping through the night then you won't need so much help and you won't be so tired."

Anne felt down. "And I suppose I have to let him share my room, don't I?"

"Well...yes," Marilla told her. "He wouldn't like being separated from you, dear. But when he's bigger he can have the spare room."

"Good," Anne said with a yawn.

She missed having her own space and she wanted to move back to her dear little gable room.

But she also liked being so near Marilla now. There was something so safe and so cozy about knowing that Marilla was always nearby. Marilla's light snoring had become necessary background noise, and sometimes, when Anne woke up from a bad dream, she scooted closer and snuggled against Marilla, breathing in the scent of her until she fell asleep again, comforted. Anne had lived her life as a little girl who never had a mother to run to with her bad dreams in the night, and she was making up for it now. More than once Marilla had woken up in the morning with Anne breathing right in her face, but she never said anything to her about it. She decided she didn't really mind those skinny arms wrapped so tightly around her neck, and no matter how much sleep she lost, she knew that Anne would be gone soon enough, and then she would miss her. And if there was anything she could do to keep her dear girl from fear, she'd do it.

* * *

"I miss _Jerry_," Anne said one day. "Can he have his lunch in here with me?"

Jerry was startled when Marilla told him to come in for lunch, and asked him if he'd like to do that from now on?

He looked hesitant- he and Matthew usually ate relatively quickly, out in the barn, and then got right back to work. But Marilla told him that Matthew had already agreed- Matthew would allow the boy to lag behind in his work just a bit, if it meant Anne could have a chance to feel like a child again.

Marilla and Matthew both enjoyed hearing Jerry and Anne talking together as they ate- and the frequent laughter that erupted.

Though it was fall, they were experiencing _Indian Summer_ and so one day when it was especially warm, Anne said she'd like it if she and Jerry could sit on the porch and eat.

But as Marilla approached the front door, she heard Anne choke out, "_Rumpy Buppy Grubbies?" _

Then Anne broke into a fit of giggles again as Jerry responded, also in laughter, "That is not as bad as what _you_ said. What is a- _bumpy gumper?"_

"_Bumpy Gumpers!" _Anne echoed, breaking into fresh laughter.

Marilla took a deep breath before stepping out onto the porch. _Well, she's done it now. She has well and truly gone insane. And it sounds as if she's taken Jerry with her._

Anne and Jerry looked up as the door opened and Marilla stepped out with a tray.

"What is this foolishness?" she couldn't help asking.

Anne had a stack of papers in front of her. She stopped laughing long enough to explain: "It's something Diana said in her letters! She said that Minnie May got a joke book and one of the things in it was that you ought to try to say _Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers_ three times _fast_. It sounds like a simple thing- but we can't do it!" Anne and Jerry both began laughing again, and Anne had to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Come on, Marilla- you try it," Anne begged. "You have to try to say it really fast, like this: RubberBabyBuggyBumpers RubberBabyBuggyBumpers RuggerBaggyBuppyBumpers," and realizing she hadn't made it all the way through correctly, she began laughing again.

Marilla's expression hid how amused she was.

"I believe I'll decline the offer," was all she said.

But she was amused, and she was very happy that something was making Anne laugh, and she was thankful especially for Diana.

After a week of lunchtime with Jerry, Anne happily told Matthew and Marilla that Jerry was going to spend his lunchtimes learning to read. Anne was going to help him between bites.

Matthew and Marilla were glad Anne had a little project in Jerry, since time with him cheered her up. But Anne, despite enjoying teaching Jerry, did not find it to be "enough" to do. She enjoyed teaching him, but she wanted to continue to learn new things herself, too.

"I wish I could _do_ something!" Anne said, frustrated at being cooped up at Green Gables, separated from the world.

"What's the something?" Marilla asked, rinsing off the teapot.

"I don't know. School. Work. _Something_." Anne said with a sigh.

Marilla raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think you have enough to do?"

"Well, I can't leave the baby, so you're right, I _do_ have enough to do. But it's nothing I _want_ to do! I've got nothing to _aim _for!" Anne let herself fall onto the sofa with a plop.

"No plopping, please," Marilla told her, eyebrows raised. "I don't want the sofa to get worn out. And you _do _have something to aim for. You can aim to be the best mother you can be."

Anne's expression let Marilla know what she thought of that idea.

Marilla sighed. "Did you finish your Sunday School book?"

"No," Anne responded lowly.

"Whatever happened to all your indignation over that silly little gold pin? Only a few months ago you cried because Gilbert had gotten one and you hadn't. But you must not have wanted it very badly- the Sunday School teacher offered to let you do everything over again and you haven't."

Anne said, "I've been _busy_."

"Yes, you have, but it seems now you're finding yourself in need of things to do."

Anne was already grouchy, but Marilla reminding her of the Sunday School pin only increased her grouchiness. "I'm _going _to do it," she muttered. Then she had a new point. "But _after _I do that, _then _what? What do I have to aim for in_ life? _If I didn't know beforehand that my life was a perfect graveyard of buried hopes, I certainly do _nowwww_…."

Marilla's response was dry. "Perhaps you should consider pursuing a career on the stage. You're certainly well-versed in drama."

* * *

A noise from upstairs got Rachel's attention.

"That's Anne," Marilla supplied. "She must have dropped her scrub brush. She's cleaning her room. Again. She knows better than to move the furniture- I gave her a good talking to about that!- but she's always rearranging little things, and dusting and scrubbing and such. She'll have it all clean and later she goes up and starts over again! ...She spends a _lot _of time cleaning her room."

Rachel smiled. "That's a good sign, isn't it? It won't be long now before she can go back to her own room, and she wants to make it nice and tidy for the baby to live in."

Marilla shook her head. With a sigh, she told Rachel, "I think she just doesn't know what to do with herself. _That's _what all the cleaning is about. She doesn't have enough to do, and what she does have to do, she doesn't enjoy. She's frustrated."

Rachel asked, "Does Gilbert still come by?"

"Yes, every afternoon," Marilla replied, "And he's our saving grace, since Diana and Ruby's visits are so..._monitored_. You know, if Gilbert would do school work with her again, I think she'd be happier."

"Won't he?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, he will. She just hasn't had the energy for it, but I think she's starting to feel more herself. And her nightmares of late have gotten better, now that we figured out she sleeps better propped up by pillows. Yes, maybe now she'll have the wherewithall to engage in study again."

That very evening after Rachel left, Marilla asked, "Anne, why don't you ask Gilbert to come over and do his schoolwork with you? You could stay up to date with the others."

Surprisingly, Anne did not react positively to this. "It won't _count_ for anything," she said glumly. "I can't go to Queens!"

Marilla had an answer for this: "Diana isn't going to Queens. You wouldn't tell _Diana_ not to bother with school anymore just because she isn't allowed to go to Queens, would you?"

"...No."

Marilla continued, "Learning just for learning's sake is important! And as for Gilbert, you know he'd love to help you."

"I suppose."

"I think it would be nice for him, it'll give him reason to stay with us longer," Marilla pointed out. "I'm sure he hates going home to that empty house and being alone all evening! I ask him to stay for dinner, but he often refuses, and I think it's because he doesn't want us to feel that he's an imposition. But if he was _helping_ you- _tutoring_ you, you might say- then he'd feel _useful_, so he wouldn't mind taking dinner from us."

"All right," Anne agreed. "I will."

And so Gilbert began coming over with school work. But Miss Stacy wondered what Gilbert was doing when he stayed after school to copy notes, and so she asked him about it. The next week, Anne found herself with a new teacher.

.


	85. Miss Stacy

Anne was trying to read.

But it was getting more and more difficult to concentrate on Jane Eyre with the sound of Walter crying in the background.

Anne breathed angrily. She wanted to cover her ears.

"Anne," Marilla called out. Her tone was not kind.

"_Anne_," she repeated, more insistent this time.

"I don't _want_ to take care of him. Why do I have to? It's not _fair!" _Anne grumbled, dropping her book with a thud. She stormed into Marilla's room, haphazardly grabbed a diaper and stomped over to the baby.

"You're right, it _isn't _fair. So don't think of what's _fair_, think of what's _real_\- what's real is that he needs _you_. So you must stop complaining and do it." Marilla's voice was firm.

That was a depressing thought to Anne.

"Anne, I want you _both_ to be happy. A happy mother will have a happy baby. Perhaps you could pick him up more often."

"I already pick him up."

"Yes, if he cries. But wouldn't it be nice if he got to be held without having to cry for it?"

Marilla went on, suggesting: "After dinner you _often_ sit and read in the parlor, and you leave him in his basket on the floor. Perhaps when you're sitting reading you could hold him on your lap instead. You could even read aloud, so he can hear you."

"I'm reading Jane Eyre again. He can't understand that."

"No, but he would enjoy hearing your voice," Marilla said gently. "I want to help you, Anne, but you _must_ make an _effort_. Even if you don't want to."

Anne sighed. Then she groaned. "I'm so _bored!"_

"Did you ask Gilbert about bringing over school work?"

"Yes, I asked him yesterday," she answered. "He said he will today."

"Well, thank heaven for small favors," Marilla said, more to herself than to Anne.

Anne looked frustrated. "Yes, so everyone else will be in school_ for the whole rest of the day_ and _I'm_ stuck waiting at home with _this _thing."

"This_ thing?!_ I don't appreciate the way you're speaking, young lady. Your tone of voice _or _your choice of words about poor Walter."

"Yes, yes, poor Walter!" Anne practically snapped. But when she saw Marilla's face, she quickly swallowed, and nervously tucking her braid behind her ear, she said, quieter this time, "I didn't _mean _to be that way about him."

"I hope not!" Marilla said, surprised. "I _sincerely _hope not. Now after he's been changed, why don't you hold him a while? It isn't good for him to be left on his own so much."

"But I want to read and he'll just be _in the way_," Anne whined softly.

"He will not be-"

"He _will! _Marilla, he fusses _all _the time and he's _never _happy and he won't be quiet and-"

"Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps the reason he fusses so much is that he's lonely? Now, _I _hold him every chance I can, but I _do _have other tasks to be done, and it would benefit _all _of us if you could march yourself over to him once in a while and _pick him up! _He's unhappy because he _misses _you!"

"I don't see why he wants _me _so much," Anne said.

Marilla said nothing, but thought to herself, _I'm not sure I see why, either._

"It's probably not good for him to get all attached to me, anyway," Anne said. "Since I'm not keeping him. When are we going to take him to that Children's Home?"

Marilla was surprised. Then, for a split second, her eyes changed to something unrecognizable to Anne, but before Anne had a chance to work out what it was, Marilla smoothed her expression and said calmly, "Oh. Do you still want to do that?"

"Yes," Anne said. "I told you I did. Can't we? You _said _we could!"

"Yes, yes, I did," Marilla conceded. "I just didn't know. You...you haven't mentioned it in a while."

"I'm so tired half the time I can't think of anything," Anne told her. "And anyway he couldn't go because he wasn't two months old yet. But now he's past that."

Marilla nodded slowly. "Well...I'll have to write to them again. Last time I did, they still had room, but they might not anymore. We'll have to see."

"It would be better if a family would take him," Anne said. "But that would take too long."

Marilla said, in a voice that sounded full of hope: "It doesn't matter how long it takes. Even if we don't find one for _months-_"

"But I don't want to keep him for _months_, Marilla," Anne pleaded. "I want him to go away."

Marilla said slowly, "Well...I know, but...I think on second thought, we really ought to wait until we can find a family. That would be better for him, I think. A Children's Home isn't _ideal_, and...yes, we'll wait until we find a family."

"Ugh!" Anne exclaimed in frustration.

She picked Walter up and stomped away with him.

"Anne, wash your hands, you just changed a diaper!" Marilla said sternly.

"Fine!" Anne yelled. She put Walter on the kitchen floor by her feet and started to furiously scrub her hands at the faucet.

"And don't set him on the floor!" Marilla exclaimed, seeing this. Walter began to cry when water from the pump rolled from Anne's arms onto his head below.

"He always cries!" Anne yelled, ready to snap.

"He's crying because you set him on the floor and dripped cold water on him!" Marilla said, her voice shaking.

Anne did not bother to dry her hands. She picked Walter up, getting him even wetter, and then she stomped into Marilla's room and dumped him on her bed. He started to cry again and she yelled at him, "Stop crying!"

Then _she _started to cry. She dropped onto the bed beside Walter and they both cried.

Marilla came into the room and saw both of them crying, and _she _felt like crying herself. She loved Anne _and _she loved Walter, but...

But this just wasn't working.

* * *

When Gilbert arrived, Anne was still in Marilla's bed with Walter beside her. Walter had cried himself to sleep, and Anne had nearly cried herself to sleep. She lay there staring at him, her head hurting and her eyes unfocused, until finally Marilla was in the doorway calling, "Anne? I see Gilbert walking. He'll be at the house in just a minute."

Anne sighed and slowly sat up. She wiped her eyes and then rolled off the bed and headed for Marilla's washstand to splash some cold water on her face.

When she was finished, she smoothed her rumpled dress and then looked back at Walter. He was waking up now, too.

She left him alone on the bed and went to look for Gilbert. But as she stepped out of the room, Walter began making upset noises. Anne sighed.

Remembering what Marilla had said- that the reason he cried so much might simply be that he's lonely- she went back and picked him up.

"There you go," she said in a kinder tone. "I'll hold you, if it'll help you to stop being so irritating and bothersome!"

While Walter did not understand her words, he did hear her tone, which was soothing instead of snappish like it usually was. He made snuffling noises and seemed to relax against her shoulder.

Anne took a deep breath and went to look for Gilbert.

Something about the way he came in made her feel lifted up. She asked Marilla if she minded if they worked in her room, because it would be more comfortable than holding the baby at the kitchen table. "This way he can lay on my lap," she explained.

Marilla was happy she'd changed her mind and decided to hold Walter after all, and told her that would be fine.

Gilbert and Anne made themselves comfortable against the headboard, with Walter tucked between them. Anne thought they'd get right down to work, but Gilbert was distracted by the baby and didn't pay any attention to her at all for several minutes.

Anne watched the two together and finally smiled a little bit. After a little while, she told him that Marilla was angry with her.

"Why? What about?" Gilbert asked.

"About _him_," Anne said with disdain, pointing to Walter. "I said I didn't _want_ to take care of him, and it wasn't fair that I have to."

Gilbert nodded. "You're right, it's not fair."

"But?" Anne asked tiredly, expecting him to go on the way Marilla had.

"But nothing. It isn't fair."

And that was all he said.

Anne felt better: He acknowledged how she felt and he wasn't telling her why she shouldn't feel that way.

Then she told him, "She won't _let _me leave him at the Children's Home. She said we have to find a family instead."

Gilbert thought _neither _were favorable options, but he said, "A family would be better, wouldn't it?"

Anne shook her head. "Yes, but that's going to take a lot longer! The Children's Home is a place he could go to _right away._ If I have to wait and find a real family then who knows _how _long I'll have to keep him!"

"Is keeping him really so bad?" he asked softly, looking down at Walter, who was now happily chewing on Gilbert's finger.

"You want him to stay, but _you _don't know what he'll _be _like. He's already in the way now. The older he gets the worse it'll be. Besides, he cries all the time!"

Walter stopped chewing a moment, now finding Gilbert's eyes more interesting than his hand, and stared up at him.

"I hardly ever hear him cry," Gilbert commented.

"That's because he hardly ever cries when _you're_ here!" Anne said. "He likes _you_."

"Then maybe I should stay more," Gilbert said. "...Just so he won't cry, I mean."

"That would be nice, until at last he goes away to another place."

Walter opened his mouth in protest and let out an unhappy noise.

Gilbert didn't want to think about Walter leaving. "Can I hold him?" he asked.

"Sure," she said.

Gilbert scooped Walter up and held him. "At school we're learning about the different types of government. Do you want to do that too?"

"Yes. Tell me every single thing that happened today."

Though hearing about school made Anne feel she was missing out, she decided she'd rather hear about it than not.

Marilla interrupted to ask Gilbert to stay to dinner, which he agreed to. As soon as Marilla left them, Anne groaned and leaned on him dramatically. "I love Marilla. I do. Very, very much. But she's always telling me what to do."

Gilbert laughed. "That's pretty typical parent behavior, I'm afraid."

"And I never minded it before. But lately- I don't know if it's because we never get a break from each other, or because of the baby, or what, but it's turned me into someone with a very short temper!"

"What's happened?" Gilbert was curious to know.

"Oh, it's everything," Anne said with a sigh. "Well, like, for example, the other day, she wouldn't let me...oh, Gilbert- oh, no- I'm sorry! I'm _so _sorry! I'm _awful_, to be complaining about parents, when you-" Anne broke off, upset.

Gilbert shook his head. "It's all right."

Then he smiled at her, and taking a big breath, he tried to appear lighthearted about it. "It's _you _I feel sorry for, not _me_. After all, _I _can do whatever I want these days. All this _freedom..._"

Anne looked at him. She knew he did not really feel that way.

But she also knew that he wanted her not to feel sorry for him. So she said, "Maybe I could come over to your house and borrow some of your freedom?"

"If she'll let you come over, you can. Do you think she'll let you?"

"I don't know," Anne said slowly. "She's been on to me about the baby, so she probably won't let me leave him."

"But you don't have to leave him. Bring him with us."

Anne made a face. She looked at Walter, who was still being held by Gilbert. He was not asleep, and he was not fussing either. He wasn't making any noise except for the occasional babble, because he was very content to be held by Gilbert, who he could already tell liked him better than his mama did.

"I'd love it if you brought him with us. Really, I would, Anne. But...I wish you could have some time without him, if that's what would make you feel better," he told her.

"Marilla won't let me have time without him because she says I'll never bond with him if I'm not even trying."

Gilbert didn't know what to say. "Well, Miss Cuthbert is in charge, not me- I don't get a vote."

And that brought Gilbert's thoughts back to the school work he'd brought over for her- about the different forms of government. He smiled at her. "I run the country of Blytheland myself, nowadays, but Annesylvania is a monarchy; King and Queen Cuthbert have the right to rule."

"Maybe Annesylvania is a republic, though," Anne suggested.

"In that case, Miss Cuthbert is the Prime Minister, so she gets to make the laws."

"But laws can be changed- does the _citizen_ of Annesylvania get to vote, too?"

"Of course," Gilbert said.

"Good. Then I can vote. You and I outvote Marilla," Anne announced.

"But I don't get a vote, remember? Now, Mr. Cuthbert is a citizen, so _he _could vote."

"I can convince him to vote my way. He and I can outvote Marilla."

Gilbert laughed. "Are you sure Miss Cuthbert's one vote doesn't count for extra? She seems to be a formidable opponent. "

Anne looked put out. "Gilbert, this _isn't_ a monarchy _or_ a republic- it's a _dictatorship_ with communist rule!"

Gilbert laughed.

"It isn't funny. A bordering country, like Blytheland, who sees the injustice this citizen is being put through, ought to infiltrate to overthrow the government!"

Gilbert kissed her cheek and said, "Until Annesylvania becomes a sovereign state, I'm afraid it will have to follow the laws of its own country."

Anne smiled at him. "I'd rather live in Blytheland. I like the laws there, better."

"That's because there aren't any. And the leader of Blytheland will give it's citizen anything she wants."

"Exactly."

"Within reason."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that last bit," Anne said.

* * *

"You certainly seem to have cheered up," Marilla said as they got ready for bed.

Anne smiled. "Gilbert was just what I needed." Then she frowned. "I mean school. I mean Gilbert bringing school. That's what I meant. School."

"All right," Marilla said with just the tiniest hint of amusement.

* * *

Gilbert stayed after school every day that week to copy notes.

He didn't typically take very many notes during lectures because he didn't need many for himself, but now that he was tasked with tutoring Anne, he had to be meticulous, keeping in mind that Anne was not there to hear what the teacher had said.

He was actually copying Miss Stacy word-for-word at some points. Because he was writing so fast during school, he didn't always very neatly, and he stayed after to re-copy everything, so that he could keep his messy notes for himself and give the neat ones to Anne.

Miss Stacy was usually cleaning the blackboards and preparing her next lessons while Gilbert worked.

The first day he had stayed after, she'd asked him if he needed help, and he'd told her that, no, he was just re-copying his notes so they were neat. So she left him to it. But on the fourth day-

"Miss Stacy," he asked.

"Yes, Gilbert?"

"I wondered if I could borrow that map of the trade routes you showed us."

"Borrow it?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes. Just for a day."

"Uh- I suppose, but Gilbert, we'll be using it in class tomorrow, so you mustn't forget to bring it back."

"I won't," he said. "I promise."

"Is it something I can help you with right now? And then you won't need to look at it at home?"

Gilbert bit his lip. He could tell she didn't really want him to take her map home. And he couldn't blame her. How could she teach tomorrow's lesson, if he forgot to bring it back? He _knew _he wouldn't forget to bring it, but- "Never mind, Miss Stacy. Thank you. I won't take the map. Could I look at it again, though? I thought maybe I'd just take a few minutes and trace it."

Miss Stacy frowned. She got the map for him, and then watched as he tore paper from his composition book and lay it over the map. He went over to the window so he could use the sun to see through the paper to trace the outlines of the trade routes.

"Gilbert," she said, coming over to him. "Curiosity has gotten the better of me. Is your note copying just a trick for helping you remember the information, or is there some other reason you do it?"

Gilbert paused.

Finally he said, "It's for a friend who can't go to school. I take notes over. To help."

"Ah, I see. That's very kind of you. Do you go to your friend very often?"

"Every day," he said. "We sit and go over the work together."

"Every day! My, that's dedication. How long are you there?"

"Two, three hours. Sometimes longer."

Miss Stacy softened at his kindness to help his less fortunate friend get ahead in life. "Does your friend have to work to support his family?" she asked knowingly.

"No," he said. "She's a girl. And she doesn't have a job. She just can't go to school."

Miss Stacy was surprised. "Why can she not attend- if you don't mind me asking?"

She wondered if the girl was frail and couldn't be sent to school for fear of illness.

Gilbert didn't answer for a moment. He looked away, saying "Well..."

Finally he looked at Miss Stacy. "She's got a baby."

He watched Miss Stacy's face carefully, wondering how she would react to this.

If Miss Stacy was surprised, she didn't show it. "I see," she said. "I wonder if you'd let me meet her. Perhaps I could help in your quest to educate her?"

"She would _love _that," Gilbert said, a laugh of relief escaping from him. "I always thought it's such a shame she can't come to class and have you as her teacher."

"Well, if she can't come to the teacher," Miss Stacy said, getting her coat, "Then perhaps the teacher needs to come to her! May I go with you today?"

_"Today? _Yeah! Yeah, of course- thank you!" Gilbert was overjoyed at how readily Miss Stacy would go the extra mile. Mr. Phillips would never have done such a thing.

As they made their way to Green Gables, Gilbert said, "I should warn you, uh...Anne is...a little embarrassed. Of the baby."

Then he shook his head. "I don't mean she's embarrassed of _him_, exactly. She's embarrassed of...the _situation_."

Miss Stacy nodded wisely.

"The _other _thing," Gilbert sighed. "The other thing is...I know the first thing people say when they see a baby is how cute it is."

"Of course," Miss Stacey agreed.

"And Walter _is _cute. Very cute. He's the cutest baby I've ever seen."

Miss Stacey smiled. "I'm sure he's darling."

"But Anne _doesn't _think he's cute."

"My, that _is_ unusual," she said, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. "...Should I make a fuss over how cute he is, so she'll feel better about him?"

"No," Gilbert said quickly, with alarm. "_No_. Anne doesn't like it when people talk about the way he looks. She wishes he looked different, and it bothers her. So if you could just avoid the subject of him being cute at all..."

Miss Stacey nodded slowly. She didn't know what to say, thinking it seemed uncomfortable to meet a baby and not say anything at all about it being cute. It was just so...expected. It felt almost rude _not_ to.

Gilbert went on, "But she'd like hearing something about him being _nice_, I think. Like, maybe...maybe, he has kindness in his eyes, or he seems gentle, or you can tell when he grows up he'll have good manners. Things like that. ...I think she'd like that better than being told he's cute."

"All right," Miss Stacy replied, glad to be given some ideas about what _to_ say.

Then she probed: "It's unfortunate she doesn't think her baby is cute. I wonder why."

"Well..." Gilbert did not know what to tell her, without explaining why the baby's little blondish head and the shape of his eyes bothered Anne. Finally he said, quietly:

"She can love him without thinking he's cute." He shrugged. Then he said more firmly, "And I'm always telling her that looks don't matter."

Miss Stacy nodded, but she thought the whole thing was very curious. _A young girl who already had a baby- and out of wedlock of course- is this boy the baby's father? He didn't say he was, but then perhaps he wouldn't. How odd, why doesn't his mother think he's cute? ...It's certainly very strange for a mother not to find her own baby cute!_

Anne came to the door expecting Gilbert, but was greeted instead by a very pretty young lady with a smile on her face.

"Anne," Gilbert said happily, "This is our teacher, Miss Stacy."

Anne's mouth dropped open. "Oh," she said. "Oh! I wasn't expecting- oh, how nice of you to come. Come in, come in."

As Miss Stacy entered the house, Anne said in a rush, "I'm sorry I haven't made your acquaintance yet, but I'm not going to school just now, you see, and I don't go into town much, and I'm sure you've been at church- of course you have, being a teacher and all, I can just imagine what people would say if you didn't- but I've been taking sort of a...well, a _sabbatical_, you might say, from church, so I haven't seen you there either, but it's so wonderful to meet you now! It was very kind of you to come over to introduce yourself. If I'd known you were coming I'd have baked something, only I suppose I couldn't really, because Marilla doesn't like me to use the oven when I'm by myself- I think she's worried I'll burn the house down- and so I can't bake a thing without her nearby, and she's gone into town- oh, I didn't even tell you who Marilla _is_, did I? I live with her, her and Matthew Cuthbert. They're sort of my parents, even though they're brother and sister. Neither ever married and they wanted me to help them on the farm, only I wasn't a boy like they thought I'd be, so-"

Gilbert was trying hard to suppress a smile, but Miss Stacy looked overwhelmed at Anne's steady stream of consciousness, so he gently interrupted her: "Anne, Miss Stacy saw how I was trying to bring you notes and things, and she offered to meet with you after school to help you herself."

"Really? Oh, _really? _Really and _truly? _You want to come _here _and help _me?_" Anne's eyes were enormous. "That would be _heavenly_. You have no idea how much I've dreamed of going to school again! I can't because- well, I just can't right now- but having a teacher, a real _teacher_, come over and help _me _would just be the very next best thing. I would be forever in your debt if you would. I think it's wonderful Avonlea has a lady teacher now! It's _exhilarating!_ Women with _professions _are so interesting! I want to hear all about when you went to college- if you'll tell me. I bet you met _ever _so many interesting people! I hope you'll tell me all about what it's like to have a _profession_. I'd _love _to be a teacher someday. Oh, it's just wonderful that you've come to _our _town. Mr. Phillips had absolutely _no_ scope for the imagination but I can already tell that _you _do! You have a sort of sparkle to your smile that makes me just _know_ you could be a _real _kindred spirit!"

Miss Stacy couldn't even speak- not that she'd have been able to get a word in- but now she laughed. "I'd be _happy_ to tell you _all_ about it."

As thrilling as this was to Anne, there was one thing that made her hesitate:

"I don't want to give you extra work and keep you from having a _life_," she explained wistfully. "You work all day, and then if you come help me after school then you wont get home until _evening _and you'll still have grading papers and lesson planning to do- not to mention cooking and laundry...you won't have _any _chance at all to do _anything _fun! You won't get to have as much of a...of a_ life!"_

"Well, Anne I'll tell you something. Women teachers aren't allowed to _have _lives. Fun is considered as dangerous as gambling! We must devote our time to our work, and the moment we seem to have too much time alone with friends- or dare I say, be in the company of a gentleman- we might be tossed out of town. So, you see, I have plenty of time and inclination to spend my afternoons with _you_."

There were tears in Anne's eyes, but everyone knew she wasn't sad at all because the smile on her face was bigger than any she'd had in a long, long time.


	86. Miss Stacy Brightens the World

_Walter liked when the Smiley Lady came._

_When the Smiley Lady came, everything was different. His mama's voice changed for the better. Walter went from only hearing his mama's voice a little bit, once in a while- and sharply, at that- to hearing her voice go on and on and on, melodic and happy, as she talked to the Smiley Lady The Smiley Lady had a happy voice too._

_As time went on, Walter began to forget what it was like to hear his mama shout, because she did it less and less._

_He also began to be picked up and cuddled more. Not necessarily by his mama, but by the person he loved most in the world: _

_Guh Buh._

_Before the Smiley Lady came, Guh Buh picked him up and held him a little while, but then set him down and opened up those flat things he brought to mama. Then Walter would listen to the pages crinkle as his mama and Guh Buh looked at those instead of paying attention to him. But now that the Smiley Lady came, she looked at those things with his mama instead, so he got to have Guh Buh all to himself for hours._

_The reason he liked Guh Buh more than anyone else was because of the way Guh Buh looked at him. There were lots of other people who held him and looked at him, too, but not the way Guh Buh did. His mama held him when she had to, but she hardly ever looked at his eyes, and he missed that from her. Besides his mama, he had two Mmmmms- what to call them started with the same sound as Mama- and they were sort of the same as his mama because they took care of him too. There was the one who smelled like fresh laundry and soap, and carried him around with her and sometimes sat with him in the rocking chair and sang him little songs, and then the other one who came in later, smelling of grass and hay. That one didn't say much, but once in a while when no one else was around, he'd talk to him about the cows. Walter wasn't sure what a cow was, but he liked hearing about them, and he liked being held and talked to. Then there was the girl with the soft, light brown hair that came and fussed over him. She was always wanting to bring him home with her, though she never did. Walter liked her too, and he could tell that she was happier than his mama was to see him. And of course there was his baby friend- the only other baby he knew- who came to play. Sometimes she poked him in the nose, making him cry, but she always kissed him, and she shared her toys with him, and they laughed and laughed together._

_But, Guh Buh outranked them all as his very best friend. Guh Buh looked into his eyes in a way that his mama wouldn't._

_And there was something in his eyes that let Walter know that Guh Buh thought he was the most important person in the whole world._

* * *

"I thought today we'd focus on geometry," Miss Stacy said to Anne. "Gilbert told me that's your favorite subject."

Anne gave a disparaging look to Gilbert, who ducked his head, hiding a grin.

_Meanie_, Anne told him with her eye contact alone.

"It's not _exactly _my favorite," she admitted, now turning to her teacher. "I'd rather study history or literature."

"Let's focus on geometry today," Miss Stacy insisted. "We haven't done that at all yet, and math is something that you can lose quickly if it isn't consistently put into practice."

"Well...I haven't worked on geometry at all since…" her eyes traveled over to the baby.

Miss Stacy followed Anne's gaze. She smiled at the baby who was snuggled against Gilbert's chest. His little fist had been tightly grasping Gilbert's thumb, but as he'd fallen asleep, his hand had relaxed and was lying open in Gilbert's palm.

Miss Stacy smiled at the way Walter's mouth was slightly open, drool pooling on Gilbert's shirt pocket. Despite his shirt being soaked through, Gilbert made no move to disrupt Walter, and he continued rubbing the baby's back in slow circles as his little body rose up and down with his gentle breathing.

"I understand," Miss Stacy said to Anne. "It's been a while! Let me give you a few problems just to see how much you can do on your own. That way I'll know where we should begin."

"All right," Anne said with a sigh. She reminded herself to be glad that Miss Stacy wanted to help her.

She would have liked to leave geometry out of things- preferring to focus on other, more exciting things like writing- but as she began working on the problems Miss Stacy set for her, she suddenly remembered the feeling she'd gotten every time she grasped a difficult concept or solved an impossible problem. Geometry wasn't fun, but it was _invigorating_.

Before Miss Stacy left, she told Anne, "Now I understand if you don't have time, but if you get a chance, I'd like you to finish the second set of problems so I can check them tomorrow."

No matter how much Anne despised geometry, she felt thrilled at the very idea that there would be something to do tomorrow that would challenge her _mind,_ instead of just challenging her _temper_.

* * *

"I'm never going to be a teacher like Miss Stacy," Anne whispered to herself in the mirror.

Marilla had not come in yet, and Anne was alone with Walter.

What had excited her before, just made her feel down, now. "She's so _wonderful _and I want to be just like her! ...But I _can't."_

She turned away from the mirror. Walter was lying on Marilla's bed- Anne had changed him for bed but had not yet placed him in his cradle.

She saw that he was, once again, fighting his sleep. "Why do you _do_ that?" she asked him curiously. She picked him up and looked at him. "Well, I know you're not going to answer me. But I wonder why you always do that! Don't you want to go to sleep? You might have nice dreams. Like...hmm, I don't know what babies dream about. You haven't any past memories to come up in your mind. Except for just remembering who you saw each day. Maybe you dream of people."

Instead of putting him in his cradle, she decided to hold him a little while.

She got into bed and pulled the covers up around them so that only their two heads were sticking out.

Anne still could not look at Walter's eyes very much- the shape of them bothered her- but she held his two little hands in hers and looked at his nose while she said: "I'd tell you a story, but you wouldn't understand what I was saying anyway, so there isn't any point to it." Then she remembered that she had told him a story before- months ago. "Say, you don't remember The Three Bears, do you? It was an awfully long time ago that I told you that one. You hadn't come out yet. We were in my room upstairs. And I told you that when you finally came out I'd show you a picture of a bear so you'd understand the story better. But I don't have any pictures of bears, so I can't...oh, yes I do- that book I got you. There's a picture of the bears in it, eating their porridge, before they go for the walk in the woods. I'll get that out tomorrow and show it to you."

Walter was still struggling to keep his eyes open.

"I wish I knew why you do that," she said. "You never go to sleep without a fight! Maybe you just think there are too many interesting things in the world to spend any time with your eyes closed! And I can understand that. You know, if you go away from me, you'll meet lots of new people and you'll see different places and you'll get to ride on a train again. Would you like that?

If you don't like it, I suppose maybe you could stay here. You're not really all that bad. ...I think maybe sometimes I'm not very nice to you. Like the other day I dripped cold water on your head. And before that I dumped you into your bed and walked away. And before that I yelled at you for crying. ...Now I feel bad about it, I really do.

I would say right about now that you don't like me very much! How could you? But then, you seem to want me no matter how mean I've been to you. I haven't done anything to deserve being wanted.

And I don't see why anyone _else_ isn't just as good- Marilla looks after you _much_ better than _I_ do, but you still want _me _most. ...I guess you figured out that I'm supposed to be your mother, so you expect me to act like one. I'm not much good at it.

You like _Gilbert _an awful lot, though. I do, too. He's kind of my best friend, even though Diana is my best friend. Gilbert can be your best friend, too- I don't mind sharing him with you."

Walter had finally surrendered, his eyes too tired to keep open anymore, and he was fast asleep. Anne didn't mind looking at him now that his eyes were shut, and she lay a long time, staring at him next to her in the bed.

When Marilla came in, Anne eased out of bed. She picked Walter up carefully so as not to wake him, and placed him gently back into his cradle.

She did not kiss him goodnight- she had never in all his life kissed him- but tonight, after she set him down, he stirred briefly and then let out a soft sigh, and Anne found herself placing a finger to her lips to say _Sssh_. After a moment she took her finger from her lips and laid it on his chubby little cheek. "Goodnight," she said.

Marilla was turned away from Anne, but she was watching her babies through the mirror. She didn't need to look in the mirror at herself to know that she was smiling.


	87. Afternoons

Gilbert was sitting at the table, considering Miss Stacy helping Anne with school work to be a refresher course for himself, too. Mostly he was glad he could be there to let Anne focus on her learning, because if he could look after Walter a bit, then Anne didn't have to jump up every time he needed something.

It began simply, with Gilbert offering to hold Walter because Anne could not write with him in her arms, but when she tried to set him down, he wailed and wailed until he was picked up again. So Anne handed the baby over, grateful.

When Walter began to fuss to be fed, Anne had to get up to prepare a bottle, but once it was made, Gilbert reached out to take the bottle, wordlessly offering to feed him so Anne could sit back down with Miss Stacy again.

The next time he needed a bottle, Gilbert stood up and went to the stove. "So what do we do here?" he asked her.

She laughed. "It's all right, Gilbert, you don't have to mix his formula."

"No, no," he said, "I've got this. We just pour this in, right? And it has to come to a boil?"

"It doesn't have to boil, actually- but, oh, Gilbert- you have to put the formula into the bottle, not into the pot," Anne said with a little bit of a laugh. "You pour it into the bottle and mix it up with water and screw the lid back on. And then you put the bottle in the pot with water to heat and when you get it out you need oven mitts. Then you have to let the bottle cool off and you have to pour some on your wrist to make sure it's not still too hot."

"All right," he said, reaching for a clean bottle. "Walter, just wait, you'll see who makes your bottles best."

Anne laughed and Miss Stacy smiled at them.

Once Gilbert knew how to prepare a bottle, he began to pick up a bit more for her. He seemed to move comfortably into a role of being just another one of Walter's caretakers. Walter had always looked to Gilbert for both comfort and amusement, but now he began to expect nourishment from him too.

Gilbert didn't really understand why the baby was fed with bottles or what the formula was made from. But he was glad that the way they were feeding him gave Anne a bit more freedom; she could go off and do other things if needed, and others could feed the baby.

One day after Gilbert got a bottle ready for Walter and fed him, he noticed Miss Stacy watching him thoughtfully. Anne was busy working a math problem, and Gilbert was holding Walter on his lap and wiping up the bit of milk that puddled on his little wobbly chin.

Once Walter finished his bottle, Gilbert got up and went to the sink. He held Walter in one arm while his other hand rinsed out the bottle and set it in the sink.

Then Gilbert began pacing the kitchen, and as he walked he was patting the baby's back to get him to burp. Once Walter had burped, then Gilbert came back to the table and held Walter on his lap again, the baby's hand grasping at his shirt and pulling it.

He could feel Miss Stacy's eyes on him, and the way she seemed to be sizing him up made him realize that she assumed him to be the father. And why wouldn't she? He was there every day; the baby clearly looked to Gilbert as his regular caregiver, and Miss Stacy noticed. Of course she would assume the two of them had been in a relationship that resulted in little Walter being born.

If Miss Stacy ever asked him outright- though he doubted she would, it being somewhat of a rude question- he would have to be honest and tell her that, no, he was not the father. But unless she specifically asked him that question, he had no intention of telling her he wasn't. Because if he told Miss Stacy the truth of how Walter came to exist, he'd be overstepping- what had happened to Anne was Anne's story, and he had no right to tell it for her.

If he told Miss Stacy he wasn't the father but then offered up no further information on the subject, well...Miss Stacy might just assume Anne was the sort of girl who, as people say, 'gets around'. Didn't Anne seem overly familiar with one boy only a few months after having a baby with a different boy? No, he couldn't let Miss Stacy think that.

So he decided he was fine with the assumption. It wouldn't look as if Anne had multiple boys involved in her life, and Miss Stacy wouldn't have to know Anne's secret.

Anne began to hope for a possibility of becoming a teacher after all. She knew the Avonlea school would never admit her back, but perhaps she could go to school somewhere else, somewhere where they didn't know her, and graduate there.

And then- if Walter went away- she could go on to Queens to earn a teaching license and find employment. The more she was with the wonderful Miss Stacy, the more she wanted to be just like her. It would mean she couldn't keep Walter, but she'd never been set on keeping him anyway.

She wanted to build her own life, on choices she'd made, not the choices someone else had made for her.

When Miss Stacy was with her the next day, Anne began asking her about how one went about earning a license- were the exams difficult? How long did they give you to take them? Were there essay questions? Did you have to pay a fee to sit for the exams? Did they mail you your license once it was earned, or was there some sort of ceremony where they were handed out?

Miss Stacy answered her questions, but she spoke reluctantly and seemed not to want to give Anne too much information.

Gilbert drove Miss Stacy home, using the Cuthberts' buggy, and would return afterward to spend the evening with Anne.

But on the drive, Miss Stacy asked, "'Gilbert, Anne isn't married, is she? She's too young, I know, and I realize she still lives at home with her family, but I thought- I thought that in _situations _like _this_, where things must change a bit- there might be a marriage on _paper_, even if the couple doesn't actually set up their own home together...?"

Gilbert shook his head slowly. "No." Then he said, "I don't see why Anne should have to get married so young just because this…happened. She has things she wants to do in the future and I know the baby's made things a bit more complicated, but…is something troubling you, Miss Stacy?"

Miss Stacy took a breath. "I don't want to dissuade a student from the goals they set and the dreams they believe in. But I've wrestled with this time and again. Anne has been asking a lot of questions about college and earning a license and having a teaching career…"

Gilbert knew where this was going.

Miss Stacy continued, "People are not always accepting of a woman teacher in the first place- I've had trouble with that myself- even coming here! Not all school boards believe women will make the most _effective _teachers. And even those who _do_, often seriously doubt a woman will be able to keep good discipline in the school, particularly with the boys. Now, as much interest as Anne expresses in becoming a teacher, I don't see how she _can_ earn a teaching license. The school won't allow her back, and she won't be admitted to college. Yet the way she questions me leads me to believe that she is holding out hope it will be possible for her."

Gilbert smiled softly. "She's usually pretty good at holding onto hopes, even when things are bleak."

Miss Stacy was quiet a moment. "If we _were _to find a way for her to finish her schooling. And if she were somehow able to take the exams to get a license... Oh, I would love to _find_ a way for her! Yet at the same time, I hate to encourage her, knowing that it won't pay off for her in the end! Because it _won't-_ no school board will hire her with a toddler in tow. They won't hire a mother at all, wed or unwed. …She'll work so hard, with no reward for it in the end."

Gilbert didn't say anything for a moment. He shifted in the buggy seat, moving the reins from one hand to the other. "She wants to earn a teaching certificate, Miss Stacy, it's a goal for her- but I don't expect she'll need to _use _it."

Miss Stacy was watching him.

"She doesn't need to worry about having a career or providing for herself."

That was all he spoke as he looked ahead at the road laid out in front of him.


	88. The First Fall

All right, I know everything has been getting a bit better, but at this time in the story it is really and truly fall weather.

For me, when fall comes, it is HARD. When everything around you looks and smells the same as it was that day, it is very challenging.

Anne is going to have to deal with the anniversary of what happened to her.

BUT I'm going to try to post a few more chapters quickly to get the depression done quicker because I know we really want to get to the happier times!

There is a dramatic part that happens (already written) but once she gets through that dramatic part, then things really do flip and she's free to just love on that baby every bit as much as we all want her to. : )

* * *

Indian Summer was a blessing, especially for Anne, who desperately needed the fall weather to stay away as long as possible.

But it could not last forever, and before long the fall pushed its way in and Indian Summer was gone.

The trees flamed with oranges and yellows and reds, and the falling leaves scattered in the crisp, cool breeze. The smell of wood burning and apple cider filled the air.

Anne had thought she was getting better; every day Miss Stacy came was another day closer to feeling like her old self again.

But the first day she stepped outside and heard the dry leaves crunching under her boots, something hit her unaware, before she knew to prepare for it, and a dreadful weight settled itself upon her shoulders.

She could not go outside.

* * *

When Walter turned three months old, Marilla decided to bake a cake.

"It isn't it's birthday," Anne said dully. "Not really."

"I know," Marilla said, noticing that Anne had said _its_ birthday rather than _his_ birthday. "But each month is a little birthday of sorts. Remember when we used to celebrate each new week? I thought we'd all like a cake. It's been a while since we've had one."

Anne said "He can't eat it."

Marilla said, "_We_ will eat it. What kind of cake would you like to have?"

"I don't know," Anne said glumly. "Just pick something."

The cake was chocolate.

While Anne did not care about the "birthday" or the cake, she was very aware that Walter's three month 'birthday' marked one year since the incident.

She felt in some ways that it had been a such a long time ago, because so much had happened to her since then. But in other ways she felt it had happened just yesterday- and even more so now that the fall weather was here. The fall weather brought her right back to it, and there was no way to avoid it.

Matthew found her crying and she told him that she'd just read a sad part of a book. It had been a lie. She was crying because she had always loved the fall- it was such a _beautiful _time of year, when the whole world felt aglow, and she was happy to be in it- but now she _hated _this time of year.

And then she cried because she had lied to Matthew. But she found it was harder and harder to talk to anyone about how she felt. She knew that no one would understand, and she couldn't have explained it if she wanted to.

The closer she was to a person, the less she felt she could tell them. She did not want to burden her loved ones with the gory details of that day in the woods. But the more she kept it inside, the worse it became.

The day after the "birthday", the nursery attendant came to visit Anne, bringing her yellow flowers and a new batch of cloth diapers along with a certificate.

Marilla had gone over to Rachel's- taking Walter with her- and Anne was asleep in bed, so Matthew was the one to answer the door.

Later, when Marilla returned, she saw the things that had been left, and she showed them to Anne.

"This is what the church nursery does when someone has a baby. Yellow flowers and new diapers. Isn't that nice?" Marilla was touched by the gesture, because she had not expected anyone to "celebrate" Anne's baby, least of all the church, though in her mind she felt the church ought to be the first to help in such a situation.

Anne, ever pessimistic these days, wondered if they normally waited three whole months before they brought the new mother these things, or if it had just taken three months for someone to finally agree to do it.

"What's the paper?" she asked tiredly.

Marilla handed it to her.

"Cradle Roll," Anne read from the heavily decorated paper with its giant, fancy calligraphy. It was a bit like her heirloom birth certificate the doctor had given her, with little cherubs decorating the page. "What does it mean?"

"It's just a...a cute way of putting it- like taking the attendance roll at school. When a new baby is born, the church puts the baby in its record."

"He hasn't been to church."

"No. Normally they don't give these to the parents until the baby's first time attending. ...It's sort of a tradition. They ask the parents to come up to the front of the church, and the congregation says a prayer for the new baby, and then everyone comes up to hug them and meet the baby, and some people bring gifts."

"Like a christening," Anne commented.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Though people often have those too, as a separate event. This isn't formal like a christening would be. ...I don't know why they brought this to you at home instead of waiting until we come back to church."

"They're probably hoping I won't come back," Anne said.

"Oh, Anne, they're not!"

"Yes, they are," Anne said. "They'll be glad that I'm not going to."

"Now, you can't bring him up not going to church!" Marilla said, her tone serious. "That won't do at all."

"You take him, then," Anne said. "I can't. I won't. I don't ever want to go back. Everyone will stare at me and whisper and the Andrews will be there. It would be..._gruesome_. Horrifying. Intolerable."

"Stop being dramatic. It will be nothing of the sort."

"It will be, and you _know_ it will!"

Marilla didn't know what to say, because in all honesty, she believed that Anne might be right.

Anne wasn't sure she wanted to go back to church, and not just because of her worries over the townfolks' opinions of her.

A whole new person existed because of what had happened that day, and Anne wrestled with her feelings about that. She decided that God must have thought Walter needed to exist in the world right now, or he wouldn't be here, but why couldn't God have planned a different way for the baby to be created; one that didn't hurt _her?_ Did God really care about her, or did he only care about Walter? And if God wanted Walter to exist in the world so much, then was He angry with her for not being able to accept the baby? She liked to think God had some divine plan- that everything in the world, even the bad things, all worked together to lead to beautiful results in the end. But she could not fathom how the wreckage of this trauma could lead to anything good.

Taking care of her baby had become impossible.

Anne grew worse as fall continued.

Marilla found herself keeping the curtains drawn and relying on lamp light, because even the sight of the browning leaves seemed to trigger in Anne a response that Marilla did not know what to do with.

It was not depression alone, but anxiety, fearfulness, and strange, frightening slips into states that Marilla had to shake her out of: Anne was remembering that day, but to Marilla it seemed to be more than just a memory; she seemed to be re-living the event as if it was happening in the present moment.

The more she tried to draw Anne out, the more Anne resisted her.

She told Marilla she did not want to eat lunch with Jerry anymore.

She turned away Diana and her mother at the door.

She stopped picking Walter up.

She forgot all about the work Miss Stacy set for her, and after a week she told Miss Stacy that she no longer had time to do school work at all.

When Gilbert came, she hardly spoke.

In fact, she hardly spoke at all, except in her dreams. And because she was still sleeping in Marilla's room, Marilla heard _everything_.

Her heart hurt for Anne, but she did not know what to do, except to wake her up out of her nightmares and hold her.

Rachel came over a few times a week, so that Marilla would have a break, and while Marilla was grateful for Rachel's help in caring for Walter, she did not appreciate Rachel's advice on what to do about Anne.

"You've got to snap her out of it, Marilla," Rachel said loudly, the expert on all things. "It does no good to dwell on things! She's got to _decide _to put it behind her."

"I don't think it's a _decision_, exactly," Marilla said.

"What are you going to do, then?" Rachel wanted to know.

"I don't know," Marilla answered slowly. "I keep telling myself that as time goes on, things will improve! And they _were_; she seemed so happy, enjoying working with Miss Stacy. ...My, the new teacher has been such a blessing. Mr. Phillips never would have offered to visit a student like this."

"No, he wouldn't," Rachel agreed. "Unless the student is Prissy Andrews."

Marilla raised her eyebrows. "Yes, well, there are many reasons to be glad he's departed!"

"What I can't understand," Marilla went on, "Is why Anne is taking a turn for the worse _now?_ Things have been improving so much! She's been happier- and it did not escape my notice that Anne treats Walter much better when her mind's being engaged in something. When she's bored, she has very little patience for him."

"Marilla," Rachel said. "You won't like what I'm going to say, but-"

Marilla was amused by Rachel admitting it.

Rachel continued, "I thought- from the very first!- that Anne seemed a bit..._unhinged_. Perhaps these mood swings are just her natural way? She might not be _sound_."

"No," Marilla said. "She's flighty and Lord knows she can talk endlessly, but there's nothing wrong with her mind. At least not until all of this came about."

* * *

"What should I do with these?" Anne asked, holding up Walter's keepsake birth certificate and the Cradle Roll paper the lady from church had given her.

"Keep them," Marilla said with surprise. "Put them somewhere safe, or hang them up on the wall. I was going to have them framed, but I have an idea. Let's get some paper and we'll make a little book for him. A book to hold his baby things."

"I can think of better uses for paper," Anne muttered.

"What, dear?"

"Oh, nothing," Anne said. "Just two papers aren't enough to fill a book."

Marilla explained, "But you'll have _other_ things. You can keep filling it as time goes on. Mothers often save a curl from their baby's first haircut, for instance-"

"I don't want his hair," Anne said immediately.

Marilla looked put off, but then said, "All right. Well, you'll still have other mementos to hang on to. And there are things you'll want to write down about him."

"Like what?" Anne asked.

"The dates of milestones. When he sat up by himself for the first time, or when he took his first steps. Things like that. And funny things he says."

"He can't talk," Anne said flatly.

Marilla almost laughed. "Well, no, not _now_ of course. But he's growing every day, Anne, and before you know it, he'll be talking."

"Oh," was all Anne said.

"Anyway," Marilla went on, her voice full of hope, "As time goes on, these things will feel like little treasures to you. …You'll want to look back and remember his baby days."

"Why?" Anne asked, bewildered.

Marilla just stared at her.

* * *

"This isn't working," she said to Matthew, once Anne had gone to bed.

"What?" he asked.

"Anne. The baby. Motherhood. She can't do it. And we can't make her."

"It's only been three months," Matthew said. "Maybe she just needs more time."

"She's been in a trance. She barely functions. And she has no desire to even be _near_ the baby. I don't _blame_ her, but it isn't healthy for the baby and it certainly isn't healthy for _her_ either. We can't let this go on," Marilla said firmly. "It just isn't working out, and we need to accept that and make other arrangements for this child."

* * *

Walter did not know what he had done.

Mama seemed more interested in him, but all of a sudden she wasn't.

He found himself crying more than usual- the way he used to do- because he was confused and lonely.

His _Mmmms _began doing everything for him again.

And though he loved them, he wondered why he couldn't have his mama.

* * *

"He should have gone away right when I got him," Anne said, her voice muffled by her pillow. "Why didn't you make him go away?"

It was dark out. Anne was curled up in a ball, her pillow hugged tightly in her arms.

Marilla's breath caught in her throat. She had thought that Anne was asleep.

She turned to her, closing her Bible for the night, and setting it on her bedside table. She could not see her dear girl's face in the dim lamp light.

She glanced at Walter, who was asleep. His cradle was at Marilla's side of the bed, now, because Anne refused to respond to him. "I just _thought_..." Marilla began humbly. But then she shook her head. "We've talked about it before. You _know _why."

"Yes," Anne said. "Because you thought when I saw him, I'd magically fall in love and never let him go."

Marilla paused. "No, I didn't think that. I didn't know _what _would happen. ...But I _do _know how easy it is to make a rash decision and then live with regret long afterward."

After a moment she continued, "Sometimes we make decisions based on logic and reasoning, and sometimes we make decisions based on instinct and emotion. ...And sometimes...sometimes we mix things up and make decisions based on one, when we should have made them based on another."

Anne shifted in bed, looking up at Marilla.

"There was a decision I made long ago, based on emotions I felt at the time, and...if I'd stopped and thought about it logically- _reasonably- _then I might have realized I was...I was being so foolish, and I would've made a different one."

Marilla came out of that moment, and looked down at Anne. "You, on the other hand, _would _have made a logical, reason-based decision. Someone else would be better off to raise the baby. Leaving emotion out of it, it would have been a very sensible decision."

"Yes, it would have been," Anne said stoutly.

"You'd have gone through with it, because that's what you decided."

"If that's what I agreed to," Anne said, nodding. "I keep my word."

"And in keeping your word, and being so sensible, you might have done something that was all wrong for you, and regretted it for the rest of your life."

Anne didn't say anything.

"But…you've had time, now, to see what it's _really _like to have him. The decision you make won't be solely logical _or _emotional- it'll be a mix of the two, with _experience _to back it up."

"I see," Anne replied.

"Do you? And you can make a decision now, based on both?"

Anne whispered, more to herself than to Marilla: "Everything will be different for me once he's gone."

"All right," Marilla said, stroking her hair gently. "If you're sure."

Anne bit her lip. "I _think _I'm sure...maybe."

This was not enough for Marilla; Anne could not place her baby for adoption on a "_maybe_".

She was terrified of Anne living a life of regret.

But a few days later, while in town buying a newspaper, Marilla saw an advertisement that solved the problem.


	89. It's Settled

Doing some research I found that there were people who lived on farms and had plenty of land, but not much money, so they would advertise to take in babies for pay.

The way I found out about it was actually from this horrible old court case where this woman named Amelia Dyer would take in babies and collect the fees but kill the baby. So she got the money and didn't have to bother with the baby. She was found out, but not before she'd done this to hundreds of babies.

For unmarried women who were poor, there weren't really welfare programs to help them with their baby, and child support wasn't mandated, so they would have to work at their job all the time, and if they had no one to watch their baby while they were at work then they might decide it was easier to have these people take care of the baby full time and just send money for the care.

For rich girls, they needed their baby to be raised somewhere else to "hide" that they'd gotten pregnant, but they usually found this situation preferable to adoption because it meant they were still involved in the child's life in a way they wouldn't be if they placed the baby for a real adoption back then.

* * *

The ad seemed to present an ideal situation to Marilla.

It was a situation that could even be considered a "trial run", to see how well Anne did being separated from the baby.

But she did not want to tell Anne before she had asked questions and looked into the situation herself.

Later, after she had made inquiries, she decided to show Anne the advertisement she had originally seen in the paper.

"See, look what it says here," she told her kindly, reaching an arm around Anne and pulling her close to look at the newspaper. "There are people who take in babies and raise them."

Marilla read the ad aloud: "Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Warren seek to take on care of infant of good health for a monthly premium. Pleasant home in the country, other children. Excellent references."

"But why would they want to take it? It isn't old enough to work for them, like I did for the Hammonds," Anne said.

"They aren't taking him in to do _work_," Marilla explained. "The '_monthly premium_' means they're being paid...mothers send them money each month for the care of their children."

"Oh, like paying a babysitter," Anne understood.

"Yes, except the baby lives with them all the time," Marilla explained. "You could do something like that, and then Walter wouldn't be here at home with you."

She looked at Anne, watching her face for some idea of what she thought of all this. "He'd be brought up by them, happily, in a nice house in the country. He'd have a good life. But it isn't adoption, so if you start to feel differently, you still have your rights as his mother- you could bring him home for a little while to see how you do with him. You might even change your mind. ...I wrote to them, Anne, to ask more questions than the advertisement could provide, and they explained how things have worked for them in the past."

Anne did not say anything.

Marilla went on, "Mrs. Warren said that Walter would still call _you _mother...the children they take in refer to _them _as 'aunt' and 'uncle'...remember how you wanted to call me _Aunt _Marilla? It would be like that."

Anne didn't care much what the baby called anyone.

"I admit I was worried- were the children confused about why they don't _live _with their mothers? But Mrs. Warren said when they're very young they know their mama is the nice lady who comes to play with them. They don't know any different. And when they get old enough to have more questions, Mr. and Mrs. Warren have told them only that their mother needed help taking care of them. They leave the mother to decide for herself how much she wants her child to know about her situation...they seem to be very respectful of the mother's right to make decisions for her child, which was a relief to me."

Anne didn't seem to be listening anymore. She was staring at the ad. All she said was, "But I can't pay them."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that, Anne, we would take care of that part of it. You just think about if this is something you'd be interested in."

Anne nodded, looking hopelessly at the paper. She didn't say anything else, but she wandered away and ended up lying in bed with it. When Marilla looked in on her later, Anne was still staring at the ad.

* * *

Later, Anne remembered the Andrews' money. She said at dinner, "You won't have to pay them. I forgot I can pay them myself. With the Andrew's money."

They both looked up in surprise. She'd been so quiet up to now.

"So it won't cost you anything to have him sent away," Anne finished.

Matthew spoke up: "You don't have to decide so fast. You saw the ad only just a few hours ago."

"Don't you want to have some time to think it over?" Marilla asked.

"I don't need time," Anne said.

Then she went back to eating her food.

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other. Apparently, it was settled.

* * *

A few days later, they got another letter from the Warrens.

Marilla told Anne, "They want to know when you'd like to visit."

"Visit?"

"Yes. To meet them, and see their house. And you can meet the other children they have."

"Why would I want to meet the other children?" Anne asked.

Marilla tried to be patient. "Because seeing how the other children are, will help you to know how Walter would be treated there."

"They'll treat him fine. They're getting paid for it, after all."

Marilla just stared at her. "Even if you don't care to meet the children, we'll still go. You must meet Mr. and Mrs. Warren so you can get a feel for if they're the right sort of people."

"They're the right sort," Anne said confidently.

"How do you know?" Marilla asked.

"Because they're willing to take him," Anne responded.

Marilla took a breath. "I don't feel you're taking this seriously."

"I am!" Anne said, looking offended.

"Do you care where he is going and how he will be treated? Or do you care only that he is gone?" Marilla asked sharply.

Anne didn't answer.

"Anne," Marilla said, trying to sound gentler. "I understand this isn't working out and it's affecting you negatively to have him with you. That's why we're finding a place for him, isn't it? But until we do, you must put a little more thought into it! He's completely dependent on your decisions; be sure you are making _wise_ ones for him."

"Does that mean we have to go see them?" Anne asked.

"Yes," Marilla told her.

"Well...when we go meet them, can we bring him _with_ us? Because that way, if everything's all right, we can just leave him right then!"

Marilla thought about this. "I think bringing him along is a good idea. It'll give us a chance to see how they interact with him. I don't know if we should _leave _him that day, though...I think we should just treat that as a visit- just to check into things."

Anne pleaded with her. "But if they're good enough, why bring him back home again- why should we have to make the train trip twice?"

* * *

The day before they planned to visit the Warrens, Anne told Marilla she needed to go to Emily's house to return Clara's baby clothes.

"Let's wait until everything is settled," Marilla told her, surprised.

"But it _is _settled," Anne argued. "I want to take her clothes back. We won't need them anymore."

"All right. I'll wash them and press them before we return them to Emily," Marilla conceded.

"Oh," replied Anne. "I didn't think to do that."

"Yes, and we ought to wash and press the clothes you and I made for Walter, so they look nice to take with him."

Anne shook her head. "But I've already packed up all the clothes you and I made for him. I packed them up yesterday. And his diapers. And his books. He's all ready to go! I almost packed up Emily's clothes for him, until I remembered those don't belong to us. And we can take his bed on the train, can't we? There might be an extra charge for the cargo but I have my money from the Andrews."

"You don't want to keep the bed? The Warrens have taken in babies in the past, they surely have one already. You might want to keep it."

"What do_ I_ need it for?" Anne asked blankly.

"Well...for the future," Marilla said. Then, attempting to appeal to Anne's obvious attachment to Gilbert and the things she knew for a fact they'd discussed together, she said, "When you marry someday, you'll likely need a baby bed, and-"

Anne shook her head instantly. "I can't have any children, because I can't...do that sort of thing."

"Oh, Anne, don't say that-" Marilla began.

But Anne interrupted her. "I'm _not _going to have any, Marilla. I only had _this _one. And I don't want him, so I don't need to keep his bed, either."

"All right," Marilla said with a sigh. She felt sad, and not just about Walter.

* * *

When Gilbert stopped by, he was surprised to see Anne up and about.

Lately she wasn't usually even dressed when he came- she was hardly ever up out of bed these days- and so he hadn't been able to spend much time with her.

He was thrilled today to see that she was up and seemed to have a new energy about her. She asked him in, which he gratefully accepted, and then she told him the news.

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression wounded.

Anne turned away from him. She could not look at his face when she realized that it seemed as if all the air in him had been let out, like when a balloon was accidentally let go.

Finally, Gilbert nodded, swallowing, and said, "I'm glad you found something that will help you start feeling better," he said. "I've been worried about you. I hope this...solves the problem."

"It will," Anne said confidently.

"Good," Gilbert responded.

There was a moment of quiet.

Anne could tell he was upset, but Gilbert tried to mask his emotions. He pulled her close, hugging her. "I love you," he said aloud, and in his mind: _I love you both_.

"When will he go?" Gilbert wanted to know.

"Tomorrow," Anne said.

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. That's...fast."

"Yes, and I'm glad. Marilla doesn't really want us to leave him tomorrow, actually, she thinks we ought to just visit to see what it's like, and bring him back later. But I think that's silly. If they seem right, then we ought to just go ahead and leave him there."

Gilbert just nodded.

Then he asked, "Do you want me to come with you tomorrow? I don't mind missing school."

Anne shrugged. "You don't need to."

Gilbert looked down at Walter.

"Can I stay longer today?"


	90. Beneath a Cool Exterior

When Gilbert finally left, Anne asked him to pass the word along to Diana and Jane, so they'd know.

Gilbert took the news first to Diana, who looked terribly disappointed, but Mrs. Barry was relieved. "I think that's the first sensible thing they've done," she said sharply. "Now we can all put it out of our minds."

When Gilbert showed up at Jane's house, Mrs. Andrews would not let Gilbert in. "I just need to tell her something," he said. "It'll only take a minute."

"Jane is busy having her piano lesson," Mrs. Andrews said. "I won't disturb her."

"Then would you mind passing along a message to her?" Gilbert asked. "I could write it down."

Mrs. Andrews crossed her arms. "What is it?"

"I...I don't think you'll want to hear about it, ma'am, but...you know Jane visits Anne from time to time. I just thought she'd like to know what's going on."

Mrs. Andrews looked like she was ready to shut the door in his face, so he quickly said, "The message is that Anne's decided to have the baby go live somewhere else, and he'll be leaving tomorrow. That's all. ...I just thought Jane would want to know."

"Oh," said Mrs. Andrews. "Really. How interesting."

Gilbert took a breath. "Yes. That's all. Thank you, if you'll tell her."

"What is she planning to do with it- with him?" Mrs. Andrews couldn't help asking, as Gilbert started to turn away.

Gilbert did not know if Anne would mind the Andrews having the information, so he didn't give specifics. "She found someone who could take him," was all he said. "I'll be going now."

Mrs. Andrews _did _tell Jane, but not privately. In the evening, as the family sat in the parlor, Mrs. Andrews said to her husband, "We won't have to worry about seeing An- that girl's- child. The Cuthberts are going to send it away."

Jane's head whipped up in surprise.

"Thank goodness for small favors," Mr. Andrews said, shaking his head. "I wasn't looking forward to being faced with that dreadful inconvenience every Sunday at church."

"Isn't that the truth," Mrs. Andrews breathed. "I've been positively _dreading _the service every week, never knowing _when _they were finally going to show up with him!"

Jane looked back and forth from her mother to her father. "What's going to happen to him?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Mrs. Andrews said, "She's having him live with someone else."

"But _who? Where? _Where will he _go?_" Jane asked, upset.

"Does it really matter?" her mother asked. "The important thing is-"

"Mother, how can you say that?" Jane started to cry. "Don't you care even a little bit? You sent them money, and you asked about them, and…"

"Now, dear, don't cry over it," her mother said in an attempt to be kind. "Can't you see how much better it is- for _everyone- _if it's _gone? _We certainly don't wish any harm on the child, but having it here in town is not good for _anyone_. This is all for the best."

Jane went up to her room, threw herself down on her bed, and sobbed. She did not come back downstairs again that evening.

She'd forgotten to ask about _when_ they were sending the baby away, and she did not think of it until after her parents had gone to bed. So she lay awake, wondering.

Through the night, Mrs. Andrews heard Jane awake.

She ignored it at first, wanting desperately to put that baby out of her mind.

But finally she sat up in bed, slipped her dressing gown over her nightclothes, and went to Jane's room.

Jane's lamp was still on, and she was sitting on the floor by her bed. She looked up when her mother came in.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Andrews asked softly.

Jane stared at her. Then she looked down at what she was holding on her lap. She pushed it underneath her bed.

She got into her bed and lay down. She hugged her pillow to her side.

Mrs. Andrews came in and sat on the edge of her bed. "I wasn't scolding you for being out of bed. I just wanted to know what you're doing still up. ...It's very late, you know."

Jane wiped her eyes. "I wasn't doing anything."

Mrs. Andrews touched Jane's cheek, puffy and swollen from crying. "You know darling, if you decide not to care, then you won't have to feel hurt."

Jane turned to her mother, thinking that was perhaps the worst advice she had ever heard. It made her want to cry all over again.

She sat up in bed. "Mother, I know that...that you don't want to think about what Billy did. ...I don't either," she said shakily. "But I don't understand why you pretend you don't care. I _know_ you're pretending because if you _didn't_ care then you wouldn't be paying the bills and you wouldn't be asking about how she was."

Mrs. Andrews did not respond for a moment.

Jane wiped her eyes and then leaned over to her bedside table to get a handkerchief. She blew her nose and then had to wipe her eyes again.

Her mother took a breath. "I feel a responsibility to make sure things are...all right. I feel a responsibility for what my son did."

"But you blame Anne."

"No," Mrs. Andrews said. "Actually, I don't. It is easier for me to say she brought it upon herself by her vicious words about Prissy. But even that cannot _justify_..." she trailed off, it being painful to say.

Jane watched her mother.

"Looking back, I see that there were many things your father and I overlooked, or...brushed off as unimportant. We made excuses for him."

"You raised us all the same, Mother," Jane told her. "Why does he do such terrible things?"

"I don't know," her mother answered helplessly. "And I'd never have admitted that any of my children _do_ terrible things at all! And I _still_ won't, not publicly." She shook her head. "I've wished so many times that this had never happened..."

"Anne has, too," Jane whispered.

And something in Mrs. Andrews broke. Her cool exterior slipped, and she brought her hands to her face. She made a noise Jane could not identify, and when she took her hands away from her eyes, Jane saw that they were filled with tears.

Jane put her hand out, hesitantly touching her mother's arm. "If you _feel_ something, why can't you _say_ it? If you aren't angry at Anne, then why do you act like you _are?"_

Mrs. Andrews looked at Jane's young, hopeful face, and she pulled her into her arms. After a moment she spoke. "I've always found it easier to remain aloof and distanced than to try to bridge divides. I've never liked to be indebted to someone's mercy."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked her.

Mrs. Andrews explained, "If you don't apologize, then you don't have to hope to be approved of."

She sighed and rubbed her temple. "Your father and I are two peas in a pod, I suppose; neither of us have ever found it easy- or even worthwhile- to admit when we were on the wrong side of things."

Jane lay there looking at her mother's face, thinking about how her mother had somehow become a _person_ to her in that moment, instead of just a mother. A complicated person, who recognized the flaws and weaknesses in herself.

Mrs. Andrews reached out and stroked Jane's tear stained cheek and said softly, "...I'm happy that you have a kind heart, dear."

Jane leaned down and dragged something from under her bed. "This is what I was doing," she explained. "I was writing a letter to him. Because I won't get to see him anymore."

Mrs. Andrews nodded. She did not want to look at the letter. But Jane didn't show it to her. She set it on her bedside table and said, her voice sad, "I know you said it was for the best that he went away, but I can't see how that could be true."

"When things like this happen- unwed mothers in small towns- it really _is_ for the best that the baby escapes all that and starts anew somewhere else. It makes things less...messy."

Jane lay back down in bed and hugged her pillow close to her. "But I'll _miss_ him."

After a moment she said, _"You'd_ miss him too, Mother, if you _knew_ him."

"It's also for the best that I don't."

Jane felt brave enough to point out one more thing: "He's always going to be part of our family, wherever he goes. Even if he never knows who we are."

"Anne wouldn't want us to consider him part of our family," Mrs. Andrews felt sure enough to say.

"No, I don't suppose she would," Jane agreed. "But if you didn't pretend to be angry with her when you're really _not- _and if you'd just told her that you knew it wasn't _her_ fault, and that you were _on her side- _then she could have decided for herself. We never even gave her the choice."

Her mother was quiet.

Jane thought she might start to cry again. She said, "He's a very nice little baby."

"I'm sure he is."


	91. Matthew's Goodbye

Anne went to sleep early, and Matthew and Marilla were left with the baby.

"Hard to believe," Matthew said, looking down at him.

Marilla shook her head. "I hope she'll see reason and not drop him off so _quickly_. I know this is what she wants- and I pray it'll help her- but I don't like the idea of leaving him with these people the very first time we _meet _them! ...I tried to convince Anne that this ought to just be a visit to see what things are like there."

Matthew didn't say anything; he just sat, silent as ever, his eyes focused on the baby.

Marilla looked at him, seeing all the unspoken things reeling through her brother's mind.

"I believe I'll retire," she said, standing up. "Anne's asleep, but I expect I can read a while in bed without waking her. Just bring the baby in to me when you head off for the night."

And then Matthew was left alone with Walter.

After a moment, he picked the baby up from the basket where he lay. He stood, and began pacing the kitchen floor, patting the baby's back, and trying to memorize the feeling of this precious gem in his arms, because it might very well be the last time.

When he heard the baby's slow and gentle breathing- a soft sound in a hushed room- Matthew pulled him away from his shoulder to look at him. Walter was asleep now.

Matthew sat down by the window, looking out at the dark. The window showed him his reflection; Matthew, gruff and sturdy, with the tender baby in his arms. Matthew stared at the baby's reflection on the window pane. "Wish you could stay," he said humbly. "...I would have liked that."

A few minutes later, Matthew said, "Don't _want _you to go, but...it ain't my choice. But you'll come back, I hope, and see us? Maybe for _Christmas_, we could get Anne to..."

Matthew stopped talking suddenly, swallowing his emotion. "Never mind about that now. I'm sure you'll like where you're going. M'rilla wouldn't leave you there if you didn't."

He touched the baby's head. "It's a farm, meaning they've got cows, too. So...when you hear a cow mooing, you might feel like you're still here with us."

Walter's mouth opened and let out a contented sound. Matthew finally, reluctantly, stood up to return him to his place at Marilla's side.

He gave his and Walter's reflection in the window pane one last, long look before he went.


	92. Marilla's Time

Marilla woke before dawn, at Walter's cry.

Once his bottle was in a pot on the stove, she set to work changing his diaper and dressing him.

Walter was babbling incessantly, until Marilla said, "_Shhh,_ you'll wake your mama, and she needs to sleep right now...she's very tired these days," and then, as if he understood her, the baby stopped being noisy and instead just watched Marilla intently.

When the bottle was ready, Marilla tested it on her arm. She was suddenly amused at the contrast- milk for an infant to drink, being tested on an arm that showed aging skin. "My," she said as she brought the bottle to his mouth. "My, I never thought I'd be tending a baby at my age."

And then she settled at the table with him cradled in her arms, and told him quietly, "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'm very happy you're here," she told him after a moment. "We _all _are. And the people we're going to see today will be happy about you, too. You're a dear little baby."

Marilla used the end of his bib to wipe the milk coming onto his chin. "You mustn't mind it. Oh, I know you don't know what I'm telling you. But you _must _understand how much we _love _you. Even your mama...even if it doesn't seem that way. ...She just...just gets tired, is all."

Marilla gazed upon him as if trying to memorize him, from his little toes up to his sweet face, thinking of how he was only bald with blondish peach fuzz but soon it would soon be real hair- would it be straight, curly? She wondered. Would his eyes continue to change, or was the color set now? She was sad that she might not see him grow up, until the awful realization hit her that as he grew older his physical appearance might only make things worse for Anne. Marilla swallowed the emotion that rose in her throat and stroked his little blonde head regretfully, saying quietly, "She doesn't mean to be the way she is to you."

She smiled at him again, saying. "I wish you could have known her before. You would have liked her back then. ...She would make up stories, and- Lord knows she could talk endlessly- you wouldn't _understand _her, being a baby- but then, sometimes _we _didn't either! ...but you'd have liked hearing her _voice_, anyway. I miss hearing her voice, myself. She's clever, you know. Smart as a whip. Not always _sensible_, but I know as she grows up she'll get her head on straight. Right now she's far too imaginative to pay attention to things like...like oven timers and such. Always lost in a daydream. I _thought _I minded it- I had no time for her foolishness, but...oh, what I wouldn't give to hear her prattle on now!"

She said to Walter, reassuringly: "You know, maybe after a little break from each other, she'll start to go back to her old self...and then...she might decide to come visit you...and then you'll get to see what she's _really _like..."

Walter was making a sucking noise with the bottle, and for a moment Marilla just closed her eyes, listening to it. Finally she opened her eyes again, not wanting to waste one more second she could be looking at his darling face.

"I wish things were different. ...You're still _ours_, you know. No matter _where _you live. Nothing will change how much we want you. And maybe we'll be able to bring you back to us. I hope so."

The kitchen was quiet but for the tick of the clock and the gentle noises the baby made as he drank.

"...As I said, you're a dear little baby. Let's have a good, last day together."

Walter did not understand that he was to be sent away. He sucked on his bottle, staring up at Marilla, his eyes full of trust.

Marilla held Walter close to her heart, wanting to keep him there in more than just memory. She sat still, feeling his little tummy move as he drank his milk, and together they watched the sun come up.


	93. Time to Go

Anne was eager to put the past year behind her.

They were getting ready to take the train. It would not need to be an overnight trip, which Marilla was glad for.

Because Anne still thought that they may as well leave Walter there during _this _trip, instead of having to bring him back later, she had all of Walter's things ready to be dropped off. She'd packed everything into her carpet bag and Marilla's valise, and the bags were sitting by the door.

Matthew boxed up Walter's bed, but Marilla did not want to take it on the train due to the inconvenience and told Anne they would send it by mail.

Marilla was not convinced it was appropriate to leave him immediately, feeling they ought to just check things out and return later.

"What if they don't want to take him after all?" Anne argued worriedly. "If they're agreeing _now_, we ought to just go ahead and take them up on it! It's _very _hard to find anyone willing to take your baby off your hands! Most people have more than they want!"

"Why would they _not _want to take him? Especially since it would benefit them financially?"

"Do they know how he _got _here?" Anne asked suspiciously, her mind on the family that promised to take Walter before but did not want him once they found out about his background.

"Yes, I told them," Marilla said calmly. "It didn't matter to them, they had no qualms about taking him on. Now, if we don't leave him _today-_"

"I _want _to leave him today!" Anne protested loudly. Then, seeing Marilla's scolding expression, she said quietly, "I mean, _if _they're the _right _sort of people, of course."

"If we _don't _leave him today," Marilla continued, "Mrs. Warren said that when we come back to leave him, that we might want to stay with them for a few days."

"Why?" Anne asked.

"To make the transition easier. If we stay for several days then he'll be able to get to know the family and the house while you and I are still there. And I think that's a good idea. If Walter sees us happily interacting with them, then he'll see that these are people his mama knows and trusts, and he won't feel he's been dropped off with strangers."

Anne had not thought of that. In fact, she had given no thought at all to how Walter might feel about any of this.

But then she shrugged. "_I_ was his _exact _age- three months old- when my parents died and _I _went to live with other people. I didn't get any _transition_."

Marilla thought that would have made Anne more sympathetic to him, not less.

But Anne said, resolutely, _"I_ got used to it, and he will too."

Marilla decided not to try to argue her point, and dropped that. "All right," she agreed. "When we meet them today, if you really feel this is the right place, then you can go ahead and leave him there. It's your decision."

She went on, her tone kinder now: "She said you can visit him any time you want to. And of course you can write letters."

"Why would I write to him- he can't _read_," Anne said, as if that were dumb.

"What I meant was you can write to her and she can write to you with news of how he is," Marilla explained.

"She can if she wants to," Anne said with a bit of a shrug. "But it's hard to take care of a lot of children- I _know!_\- so I don't want her wasting her time on letters when it really doesn't make any difference to me."

Marilla sighed.

Then she had a new thought. "Did Gilbert have a chance to say goodbye? I overheard him offering to come with you to their farm."

Anne nodded, tucking her braid behind her ear. She did not want to think about Gilbert right now.

* * *

As they left the house, Jerry was bringing out the buggy. Matthew was dressed to drive them to the train station, leaving Jerry to work alone for a bit.

"Are you sure you don't need me to go?" Matthew asked Marilla quietly. "I can take the train with you there."

"We'll be fine on the train," Marilla told him. She was carrying the baby basket with Walter in it.

Jerry reached out to take Anne's bags. Anne only gave him one, keeping the other one herself. She walked with him to the buggy and they set the bags in the back.

"Where are you going?" Jerry asked her.

"_I'm_ not going anywhere. _He _is." Anne gestured toward the baby basket.

Jerry didn't understand.

"I'm giving him away to some people on a farm. He's not coming back."

Jerry stared at Anne. Her voice was flat and emotionless.

He just nodded, not knowing what to say. Finally he asked, "Can I see him?"

Anne shrugged. "If you want to," she told him. But she made no move to get him, instead climbing up into the buggy, ready to leave.

* * *

At the train station, Matthew peeked into Walter's basket and gave him a last look, nodding at him, everything spoken without words.

Marilla could read her brother's face and said, "If we don't find them suitable, we'll be back with Walter on the six o'clock train."

Matthew nodded. "I'll be here to get you."

And he hoped that Walter _would _be with them when he got them off the six o'clock train.

* * *

Anne and Marilla sat with Walter's basket between them on the train seat.

They did not talk until Marilla asked, "Would you like to have a dessert?"

"It's eight thirty in the morning," Anne said flatly.

Marilla pursed her lips. "_No, thank you _would have sufficed."

"I'm sorry," Anne said dully. "Thank you for offering to get me one."

Marilla moved on. "How do you feel today?"

Anne was quiet. Finally she said, "Happy."

But she didn't look happy. In fact she did not look any different from before.

Marilla said, "Walter's settled. Why don't you rest a while? You didn't sleep very well last night."

Anne looked at her. "How did _you _know I didn't sleep well last night?"

She had not woken up.

Marilla said only, "It just seemed to me that you didn't, is all. Why don't you rest now? We won't be there for quite some time, so you may as well."


	94. Miss Stacy and the Truth

It was hard to go to school that morning.

The walk seemed long, and cold, and Gilbert had been unable to eat the small breakfast he'd made for himself.

He was somehow the first to arrive, though he was unaware of the time, and only Miss Stacy was there, sitting at her desk, finishing grading papers.

"Good morning, Gilbert. You're here bright and early!"

"Morning," he answered with a hollow smile. He could not call it good.

She noticed his face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

He tried to smile. "No." He did not say anything else, and sat down in his seat. He opened his reader, but stared at it, unable to comprehend anything on the page.

"May I speak to you a moment?" Miss Stacy asked when she heard him take a shuddery breath.

She stood up, leaving her work, and came over to him. He slowly closed his book and stared at it in front of him for a moment before he looked up.

Miss Stacy sat down on the seat in front of his. "I wanted to ask you about Anne. ...You've put me off from visiting her so many times that I'm sure there must be something wrong."

Gilbert took a breath, not sure how much to tell her. Finally he said, "She's been having problems lately."

"Problems?"

"...With the baby. And her...health."

He did not know how else to put it. Her mind was a part of her health, he decided, and that was all he could explain.

Miss Stacy's eyes were troubled. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Uh- no," he finally said, shifting in his seat, feeling his muscles hurt. "Anne's decided to find another home for Walter."

Miss Stacy's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't seem to know how to respond to that. "_Oh_," she said.

Gilbert nodded. "She isn't able to take care of him anymore."

Miss Stacy had a solution: "You said she's having problems with her health… If she can't take care of the baby due to illness, then perhaps there are things neighbors and friends- and the church!- could do to _help _her. Bring dinners, look after the baby, do some laundry, and the like. Perhaps if she had more _support_, she wouldn't feel that she couldn't take care of him."

Gilbert shook his head.

"No?"

Gilbert admitted, "Doing things like that might help her, but...even those things won't help her _keep _him."

Miss Stacy pressed gently, "Is her health issue very serious?"

Gilbert avoided her eyes. He didn't seem to know how to answer. Finally he nodded, whispering, "Yes."

After a moment he said, so quiet she could scarcely make out his words: "I've been afraid for a long time that she might kill herself."

He had never spoken this aloud, not to anyone, and had tried so hard not to even say it in his own mind. But now it was out, and he took a shuddered breath. If he had seen Miss Stacy's face, he would have seen an expression of shock.

"She's _so _depressed, Miss Stacy. She won't get out of bed, and she can't take care of the baby, and she hardly even says a word to anyone. Except in her sleep. In her sleep she says..._things_." He let out a shaky breath.

Miss Stacy wondered how Gilbert knew what Anne did in her sleep. "Has she been having this problem for long?"

"She had it real bad a long time ago...but then things got better...we all _thought _she was better. But now it's come back again."

Miss Stacy thought about this. "When did she have it before? I'm wondering if we can find a _pattern _to it, then we can discover what's causing it, and in doing so find a solution."

Gilbert shook his head, because he knew why Anne was having problems. But he didn't think he should talk about it. So he said, "It was this same time last year. _Fall_. She, uh, went through a hard time last fall. I think it's just remembering that...and the stress of the baby…"

Miss Stacy tried to think of something to say. "Well...I'm sure it isn't _easy _to have a baby at her age-"

Gilbert looked quickly up at Miss Stacy. "Don't think badly of her. …It wasn't her fault."

Miss Stacy stared at him a moment.

Suddenly the room filled with noise as other students burst in, laughing and shouting.

Gilbert quickly wiped his eyes and sat up straight.

"We'll talk later," Miss Stacy said to him, standing up and smoothing her skirt. She went out to ring the school bell.

As she began class, Miss Stacy wondered what Gilbert meant by that.

_It wasn't her fault_.

Was he feeling guilty for _causing_ her situation- perhaps thinking he'd moved things along too quickly or pressured her?

What they had done together had changed nothing for him, but it had changed everything for Anne. _He_ could still go to school and plan on college; _she_ could not.

No wonder he felt guilt.

* * *

Gilbert decided to go home for lunch, because he needed to get out and walk to clear his head.

He thought about not going back to school for the afternoon, but decided that sitting at home alone would be worse.

* * *

Once school was over, and everyone clattered out, Gilbert slowly packed up his things.

Miss Stacy came to him again. "How are you, Gilbert? You made it through the day, but…"

Gilbert said quietly, "I'm sorry if I wasn't very attentive today. I'll do better tomorrow."

Miss Stacy looked at him kindly.

Finally she said, "I was thinking. About the baby being taken away- surely _you _ought to have _some _say…"

"I don't," Gilbert said bluntly. Miss Stacy noticed then that his eyes were wet again.

Miss Stacy spoke hesitantly: "Will her family not allow you to- to take a more active role in Walter's life, or-"

He passed his ink bottle back and forth between his hands on the desk as he said, "Miss Stacy, I know it seems that I'm Walter's father, but I'm not."

"I, uh-" Miss Stacy began awkwardly. "I apologize, Gilbert. I shouldn't have assumed..."

Gilbert shrugged. "Walter doesn't look anything like me, but...I figured you'd think I was, just because you've seen how close Anne and I are."

She nodded slowly.

Gilbert smiled a watery smile before shaking his head, coming back to the present. "But I'm not his father, and I have no right to interfere, no matter how I feel about him."

The end of the sentence came out broken as he struggled.

Miss Stacy put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. I didn't know."

Gilbert tried to compose himself.

"But you seem to have...stepped in. May I ask about the father?"

"The father is…" he trailed off. "He doesn't live here. He lives in Nova Scotia..."

Miss Stacy said carefully, "That's too bad, for Anne and the baby, that they can't be together."

Gilbert's expression hardened. He looked away, out the window. He said quietly, "They were _never _together."

Miss Stacy watched him but did not answer.

Gilbert took a breath and straightened up. "He's Jane and Prissy's brother."

"Oh?" This was also surprising to Miss Stacy.

"Yeah. He had to leave...to go live with an aunt and uncle, because of what happened with Anne."

Miss Stacy said hesitantly, "It seems quite unfair to Anne that he was able to leave her unmarried, then."

"Neither of them wanted to marry," Gilbert told her, staring straight ahead.

Miss Stacy nodded slowly. "I see," she said. "But now we have a problem with Anne's recurring melancholy. Do you think it would help her to see him- is the baby's father being sent away perhaps the reason she's so depressed?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Anne _shouldn't _be with him. She wouldn't want to be. He was...he was not a nice person, Miss Stacy. It's a good thing he isn't in your class. ...You wouldn't have liked him."

There was a silence.

Miss Stacy finally said, "Gilbert, you certainly have no obligation to tell me anything. But...I must admit, I feel as though there's something from this story that I'm _missing…_?"

Gilbert stared ahead of him, unfocused, for a while before he turned to look at her.

"It was not a...relationship."

Miss Stacy sat quiet, listening to him.

"It was something that happened one time, and it was not done _willingly_. And now Anne's left with a baby she's struggling to take care of, and _he _was able to avoid being brought to trial and convicted of a crime because his parents bought the Cuthberts off and then sent him away from Avonlea so Anne could go back to school. Only then the baby happened and she couldn't go back to school after all. ...And she's been depressed ever since."

This was all so far off from what Miss Stacy had assumed happened, that for a few minutes her mind was reeling and she could not speak.

But she did not need to speak, because everything Gilbert worried about spilled out in a rush: "We all _love_ him so much. But we love _Anne_ too. It's like...it's like we have to choose between them. And of course we choose Anne; a baby can grow up with anybody, he doesn't _have_ to stay with Anne. But no one wants him to; we all want to _keep _him- her family, and...well..._me_. But we can't watch her waste away like this either! The baby going away might bring _her_ back to us. I'm so scared for her...I have been for a long time. I worry that...that we'll never get her back again, or at least, not the way she _was_. And I wish we didn't have to lose _him_ to keep _her_."

"When does she plan to take him?" Miss Stacy asked.

"She took him today."

"So he's already-"

"Yeah. He's already gone."


	95. Train Conversation

This chapter doesn't really advance anything sorry but it's just them riding to these peoples house, BUT the next chapter (ill post later today) is Anne giving them the baby and that DOES advance the plot by a lot, promise.

* * *

Marilla watched as Anne slept, slumped against the window of the train. She slept for over half of the journey, and the sleep seemed to be deep and restful for her; she did not say anything in her sleep or appear distressed. Marilla was glad.

When Anne awoke, she looked around, taking a moment to remember where she was. She peeked down into the basket, which was empty. But when she looked up, she saw that Marilla was holding Walter.

"I've been holding him so he wouldn't wake you by fussing," Marilla said. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"

Anne nodded and then rubbed her eyes.

"I ordered lunch for us while you were asleep," Marilla said.

Anne just nodded again. Then she sighed and leaned against her seat. After a moment she put her hat back on, and stared out the window.

_She just woke up,_ Marilla thought. _Often people are quiet after they've just woken up._

"Don't you want to know what you're having?" Marilla asked after a few minutes.

Anne turned from the window and looked at her, still not speaking.

"An egg salad sandwich, carrot and celery sticks, and a slice of chocolate pudding pie for dessert."

Anne just nodded.

"If you don't think that sounds good, maybe we can share- I ordered shepherd's pie and a side salad for myself."

Anne nodded again.

In a few minutes, a lady came down the aisle pushing a cart. Marilla set Walter down in his basket and put the basket on the floor between them.

Once the food was in front of them, Marilla began to eat right away, but saw that Anne had shut her eyes and was whispering to herself.

_She won't say a word, except to pray, _Marilla thought. She told herself that she ought to feel thankful Anne's predicament hadn't made her lose her faith, but Marilla couldn't even muster up any feeling in that. There seemed to be something terribly sad, to her, about Anne's whispered prayer.

When Anne finally looked up and began to eat, Marilla tried to engage her in conversation, but Anne just sat quietly and ate her food.

When they finished eating, Walter began to cry. Anne looked down at him. "What's wrong with you?" she asked blankly.

After a pause, she came out of her daze and started to cry.

"What is it?" Marilla asked, alarmed.

Anne finally spoke: "I forgot to feed him. I forgot to bring his bottles. I forgot to think of how he was going to eat on the train," she cried. "And how are those people supposed to feed him? We'll have to go back home!"

"It's all right," Marilla said, reassuring her. "I fed him when he woke up this morning, and again before we left, and I gave him a bottle while you were sleeping. We'll give him another before we leave the Warrens'. He won't be hungry."

She wondered why Anne was worrying about feeding him now. _She _hadn't fed him in days. Marilla had been doing everything for him.

Anne calmed down. "But how did you do his bottle on the train?"

"He had it lukewarm. I asked Dr. Carter about it and he said it wouldn't hurt him if we made it in advance and gave it to him on the train cold; it didn't have to be fresh off the stove."

"I bet he didn't like it," Anne commented.

"Actually, he didn't seem to notice it was any different," Marilla told her honestly.

"How is he going to eat at their house?" Anne asked worriedly.

"Anne, stop fretting. I packed his bottles- that's why I've been so careful about not jostling my bag! They're all wrapped up in newspaper and cotton. And I brought all of the Mellins' packets we still have and-"

"What will they do when he runs out of them?" Anne asked.

"We'll keep ordering them just like we always have. We'll have them shipped to their house instead of ours."

"Oh. All right," Anne said, taking a breath.

Marilla was bothered by how Anne could grow so fretful and emotional within seconds, but then she decided that it was a positive thing that Anne was worried over the baby. She could have simply not cared.

"Would you like to hold him?" Marilla tried.

"_No_," Anne said firmly, pushing herself away from him and returning to looking out the window.

Marilla sighed. Then she said, "Perhaps when you go back home, you might like to ask Miss Stacy to come back. You enjoyed working with her."

Anne didn't respond.

"Maybe you'd like to do something fun with Emily, too. Remember that day she let you come along with- what you called, her 'grown up friends'?"

But Anne's eyes changed and looked upset. "Clara's going to be sad that Walter's gone," she realized.

"Well- yes," Marilla said, wishing she hadn't brought up Emily at all. "At first she will. But she's very little and she won't remember-"

Anne nodded. "You're right, Clara won't remember him." She sat back against the seat.

_There's still those of us who __**will **__remember him,_ Marilla thought to herself. She looked down at Walter, who was just staring up at her, content. The steady movement of the train and the sound as they rolled over the tracks seemed to keep him pacified. She looked over at Anne, who was leaning against the window, her breath fogging the glass. When Anne sat up, she began drawing on the window with her finger. _She's such a child_, Marilla thought. She looked down again at Walter. _I wish you could have come to us later, somehow. I don't know __**how**__, exactly, because I certainly wouldn't choose Billy Andrews to be with my dear girl...but then, if you came from a different person, you wouldn't be __**you**__, __would you? And I love __**you**__. I wouldn't want you to be any different...I think you're perfect just the way you are._

"Maybe it's good Clara won't know him. When he grows up he might be awful," Anne commented absently.

Marilla held Walter closer. _You won't be awful, _she told him in her mind._ You mustn't pay any attention to that. You're a lovely baby and there isn't a thing wrong with you._

"Marilla," Anne interrupted her thoughts. "How much further?"

Marilla pulled her eyes away from Walter. "Not much longer; we're almost there. Here, Anne, hold him just a little while...I'm worried you might regret it later if you don't."

Anne held out her arms out expectantly. She did not look like she had any personal interest in holding her baby, but was doing it because she felt obligated.

"Hello," she said to him formally. Then she went back to looking out the window, holding onto Walter but not paying any attention to him.

Walter happily babbled anyway; despite how little interest she showed in him, he wanted the whole train to know how overjoyed he was to be with his mama. He kicked his legs and made noises and Anne became annoyed. She pushed him away from her and set him in his basket. "He's too noisy! He's noisy and _awful! _I hope we're there soon!"

As soon as Walter understood that he was to be set down again, he let out a hearty wail. Marilla picked him up quickly, but Marilla was too little too late. Walter cried and cried. Anne put her hands over her ears._ "Make him stop!" _she said miserably.

"Anne," Marilla said, trying to be heard over the sound of the baby squalling. "_Anne!_ He is crying because you set him down!" Marilla was frustrated. She pushed Walter onto Anne and said firmly, "He is not going to stop crying until you hold him, so you _are _going to hold him! _Now!"_

Anne took him back, looking angry, and flopped Walter against her shoulder. She glared as she began patting his back- a bit too roughly, Marilla thought- but eventually Walter's cries died down and he began to hiccup.

_Hic-cup hic-cup hic-cup, _he went.

And in a little while he was sleeping again, against Anne's shoulder, drool pooling on her sleeve.

"Now he's ruined my clothes," Anne muttered, holding Walter away from herself.

_Walter, as much as I love him, has become a wedge between us, _Marilla thought. _She resents me for expecting her to care for him, and I'm starting to resent her for this attitude she's developed!_

"He's gone to sleep, I can put him away now," Anne announced.

"No, you cannot '_put him away'_. You're going to hold him, and you're going to make sure he doesn't cry," Marilla said, frustration showing in her voice.

"But-"

"No _buts_. I don't want to hear another sound out of you- _either _of you. Now sit there with him, and make sure he doesn't cry."

Marilla took her hat off and leaned her head back against the seat. "I believe I'll try to have a little shut-eye before we arrive."

Anne watched helplessly as Marilla turned her head away and let her eyes close, leaving Anne alone to manage the baby.

At least he was asleep now. Anne decided that as long as he was asleep, she could slip him quietly into his basket and he wouldn't know. She could pick him up again when she saw Marilla waking up.

As the train was pulling into the station, Marilla's eyes fluttered open. Like Anne, it took a moment for her to process where she was. She looked over and saw Anne quickly reaching down to Walter's basket to pull him out.

"Did you have him in there the whole time I was resting?" Marilla asked sharply.

"...No," Anne said. Then: "Yes."

"It's a good thing we're here," she said under her breath. "You won't have to hold him anymore. _Anymore!_ And I won't have to waste my time scolding you. Because it certainly _is _a waste of time!"

The two unhappy travelers filed out of the train and and into the glaring sunlight.

Coming out of the train put things anew, and Marilla kept her arm protectively around Anne as they looked for where to go.

"Are they meeting us?" Anne asked, standing close to Marilla among the bustling crowds.

"No, Mr. Warren offered to pick us up at the station, but I told them we'd hire a carriage," Marilla explained. "I thought it would be better- in case you wanted to talk- just the two of us- before we get to their house."

Anne carried their bags; Marilla held the baby basket. "Oh, there we are. Let's go," and Anne followed her over to a carriage house behind the station.

When Marilla had paid the fee and told the man where they wanted to go, she and Anne were helped up into the carriage and the door was shut behind them. The driver climbed up into the seat outside and they were on their way.

"You must be feeling relieved," Marilla commented after a few minutes of quiet. "To know he'll be gone soon. No more crying and fussing. No more bottles to fix or diapers to change."

"I don't like looking at him," Anne said softly.

"I know you don't," Marilla responded after a moment, more gentle with her this time.

They sat a long time in the quiet, bumping along in the carriage, with the baby laying in the basket between them.

"He's fallen asleep so quickly," Marilla said. "And stayed asleep for longer periods of time. The movement of traveling seems to do it. I suppose if we ever can't calm him, we could take him for a ride in the buggy, now that we know that's what does the trick!"

"We won't need that trick," Anne pointed out. "Because we aren't keeping him."

They sat in silence again.

"Anne," Marilla said, finally breaking the silence. "I don't like us being at odds with each other."

Anne's eyes were wide. "Oh, I've been just _awful _to you, Marilla! I've been _mean _and _hateful _and-"

Marilla cut her off. "You've been no angel, that's for certain, but I should try harder not to lose my patience with you. You've been through a great deal, and I ought to be more-"

"But _I've _been selfish. I haven't done a _thing _to help you, _you've _been doing _everything_, and I've just ignored-"

Marilla finally held her hand up. "Well, I'm willing to share the fault," she said with a smile. "But from now on, whenever we get upset with each other, let's try to remember that we're both on the same side, shall we?"

"I like that," Anne said happily. "We're both on the same side."

Marilla glanced at the baby. "I expect we won't get into too many squabbles anymore, what with the baby being away. He seemed to be the source of our trouble, didn't he?"

Anne bit her lip. "That's why he shouldn't be here. Because he makes everything hard."

Marilla nodded slowly. "I hope things will be easier for you now."

Anne was confident: "I know they will be. As soon as he's gone, everything will be different."

It worried Marilla how sure of that Anne seemed.

"I told Mrs. Warren that you wanted this to be permanent, and that you don't want to visit him or write-"

"I still don't," Anne said firmly. "That won't change."

"But I wondered, Anne, what you would think of Matthew and I going to visit him occasionally."

Anne looked unsure. Finally she shrugged, "I suppose if you really want to, then you ought to. But...but I don't want to have to hear about him when you come home."

"I understand," Marilla said softly.

"He's only half mine, you know. And I don't want either half," Anne said decidedly.

"But when we say goodbye to him, _try _to be affectionate to him, if you're able. Just this _once_. Just for goodbye. You won't see him anymore, and it would be nice to let him feel some love from you now before we go."

There was no answer. "Anne?" Marilla pressed.

Anne blinked twice. "What?"

"I _asked _if you could try to give him a nice goodbye. Even though you don't feel it. Just give him a squeeze and tell him you'll miss him."

"He won't know what I'm saying," Anne responded quietly.

"He knows your _voice_, Anne. He's known it since before he was born, and he's comforted by it. So let him have it one last time."

Anne looked down at Walter. He had woken, and was gazing up at her.

His eyes watching her made her uncomfortable, and she turned away from him to look out the window.

"He's entirely too dependent," she said, decidedly. "It's a tough world out there for motherless children, and he'll have to make do like I did: by being self-reliant."

Marilla didn't know what to say to that.

"We're almost there," Marilla said pleasantly after a time. "Do you see that lovely little house in the distance, with a rose garden around it? ...It's just as they described. Not much further now."

Anne picked up the basket with the baby in it. She was gripping the handles so tightly her knuckles showed white.


	96. The Warrens

At last they were there.

"Oh, my," Marilla breathed. "How lovely to be in the countryside again after that busy train station!"

Anne was not enthused. The trees surrounding her had finished with their beauty for the year and were now ominously scattering their brown leaves in the brisk wind.

She sat stiff as a statue in the carriage seat. Even when the driver opened the door, she did not move.

Marilla looked over at her, saying, "Come on, Anne, up and out. Time to go."

Anne's expression did not change. She stared resolutely ahead, not moving except to blink, and even that she did infrequently.

"Anne!" Marilla called several times before she was able to bring Anne out of her trance-like state.

They stepped out of the carriage. Marilla gave the driver a tip and asked him to return for them at about four o'clock.

They had to walk through the dry leaves to get to the porch, but Anne halted suddenly, nearly tripping, and bumping into Marilla.

"My goodness, child, watch where you're going!" Marilla told her, but she stopped short when she realized Anne was upset.

"Anne?" she asked, leaning down. "What is it?"

"I don't like fall," Anne whispered.

"You don't like...fall?" Marilla repeated. "I thought fall was your favorite time! You went on an on last year about the brilliant colors of the leaves-"

Anne shook her head. "I don't like leaves."

She took a breath and walked more carefully now, stepping around leaves to avoid stepping on them.

She did not want to hear the sound of them crunching under her boots.

Marilla watched her, concerned.

"Is that why you don't want to go outside anymore?" she finally asked.

She did not understand why Anne suddenly despised leaves, but then, she never knew _what _to expect from her these days.

Anne nodded. She set Walter's basket on the ground next to a pile of leaves because she could not see to walk around them with the basket in her arms.

Marillia watched her strangely.

Once Anne had stepped around the dreadful leaves, she bent down to pick up her baby.

Suddenly the door opened ahead. "Good afternoon," called a pleasant voice.

Anne did not say one word when Mrs. Warren greeted them with a warm smile and invited them in.

Mrs. Warren was a kind looking woman, with soft brown hair in a loose bun and laugh lines around her eyes.

"And this must be little Walter; hello dear," Mrs. Warren said kindly, leaning to look into the basket. But Anne pulled it back against herself and didn't let her see him.

Mrs. Warren straightened up, seeming to realize, then, that Anne was distrustful of strangers.

"Well," she said, trying to sound bright. "Why don't I show you the house?"

Marilla pushed Anne ahead to follow Mrs. Warren in.

"This is the parlor, of course, and let me show you the kitchen- oh, Anne, Miss Cuthbert wrote to me about Walter's bottles. I _have_ had a bottle-fed baby here before, so I'm familiar with that already, but I thought maybe you and I could make one together before you go, so that you can show me exactly how you want it to be done." She smiled at her.

Anne just nodded.

"Mr. Warren is still out, but he'll be in shortly."

"Where are the other children?" Anne asked, her voice sounding empty.

"They're at school," Mrs. Warren told her. "Miss Cuthbert said you planned to stay until about four, so you'll be able to meet them before you go."

Anne nodded.

"We have a very nice school here," Mrs. Warren told her. "The teacher is a longtime friend of mine. And our school board keeps us well-supplied, which is nice. I can't recall seeing any other school that has as many books as we do."

Anne just nodded again.

"So I'm sure Walter will enjoy going to school here, if he's like you- Miss Cuthbert told me how much you enjoy reading."

"He doesn't know how to read," Anne said, her face blank. "He's too little to go to school."

Mrs. Warren looked at Marilla. "Of course. I meant when he gets _older_, dear...when he's old enough to go to school here..."

"Oh," she said.

"Why don't I show you the rest of the house."

Anne gripped the baby basket handles tightly as Mrs Warren showed them around the house.

"Here's where I do my sewing," she told them, showing them her Singer pushed up to a window in a sunny little room on the first floor. "I like to work in here because I can be watching the children playing in the yard. You can see we have a swing out back. And then of course there's the pond, but that's on the other side of the house and the children aren't allowed to go near the water unless one of us is with them."

Anne thought about the pond that was near them. She'd never thought of Walter seeing the pond. It wouldn't mean anything to him now, but when he got a little older- she shook her head. She did not want to picture him being any older.

"Anne, dear, your arms must be tired. Why don't you put him down?"

"No," Anne said her voice clipped. She pulled the basket up higher, to get a better grip on it. He _was _getting heavy- but she kept her fists tight around the handles.

Mrs. Warren showed them upstairs. "Our little girls share this room at the end of the hall-" she opened the door to a pretty bedroom that made Anne ache to be in her own bedroom again. She hadn't been for months.

"Our two boys share this room," she said, pulling that door open for them to glance in, too.

"And we have another bedroom that we'll have _your _baby in, because he's several years younger than our other little boys, so we didn't think it would work out well for them all to share." She took them into a bedroom overlooking the garden."This would be his room."

"There isn't any _bed_," Anne realized. She looked at Mrs. Warren. "We didn't bring his bed. She wouldn't let me bring it. She said we could mail it. But now he won't have a bed."

"We do have a bed," Mrs. Warren smiled. "But we put the cradle downstairs for now- we'll be keeping this new little one in our room for a while yet. Once he gets a bit older, then he can start sleeping up here in his own room."

Anne looked down at the baby. "That's what we do at home. He stays in Marilla's room and then we're going to move him up to my room when he isn't so tiny."

Marilla was looking at the way Anne was hugging the basket tight to her chest.

"Would you like to be the one to put his things away?" Mrs. Warren asked Anne, gesturing to the bureau of drawers.

Looking at Marilla, she explained quietly, "Mothers who leave their babies here often like to decide which drawers things should go in, and such. ...It sounds like a small thing, but it seems to be easier for them to leave the baby if they've been able to prepare the space themselves."

Seeing that Anne was listening, she then said to her, "You can do that downstairs where we've put his cradle, too- you can decide where in our room you'd like it to be, and you can make up the layette yourself the way you know he likes."

"No," Anne said loudly, backing up. "I don't care where his things go. I don't care at all."

"Anne," Marilla said, coming over to her. "I think what she said is very sensible. Why don't you and I put everything away together? That way we'll know we have everything here- that we didn't forget anything at home by mistake, and...and it'll give you a chance to remember if there's anything you want her to know."

Marilla opened a bag and took out the yellow blanket Diana had knitted for Walter. Marilla was right- going through the baby's belongings caused Anne to remember advice:

"He doesn't like to be wrapped up," she said, looking from the yellow blanket to Mrs. Warren. "A lot of little babies like being wrapped up, but he doesn't at all. He likes to be able to move his arms and legs and if you wrap him up he'll cry."

Mrs. Warren smiled. "All right, I'm glad to know."

Marilla looked into the bag and took out Jane's rabbit. Anne said, "I brought other things for him, but...that's the most important one. It's a rabbit."

"I see that," Mrs. Warren smiled. "Is it his favorite?"

Anne nodded, unsmiling. "It's from his Aunt Jane and she loved it very much and it came from her great-grandmother when she was a baby herself so I have to make sure he doesn't lose it. ...Don't let him take it anywhere where he might leave it behind."

"I'll see to it that he doesn't," Mrs. Warren reassured her. "And I'm glad you told me its history, so that when he's a bit older I can tell him where his rabbit came from! That will be a nice thing for him to know."

"He _already _knows it," Anne said. "I already told him."

Mrs. Warren and Marilla looked at each other. Didn't Anne realize...?


	97. Leaving the Baby

Mrs. Warren had a moment of doubt that Anne understood what she was doing here.

She said kindly, "I know Miss Cuthbert said that you didn't want to have any further contact, but you _do _know you _can _change your mind, don't you? If you decide you want to come see him, or even if you want to take him-"

"I don't," Anne said. "I don't want to see him ever again."

"Then why don't you set him down?" Marilla asked. "You look as if he's getting heavy."

"No," Anne said. "I can hold him." She held the basket closer.

"You know, Mrs. Warren ought to _see _him, Anne. Take him out of his basket and let the two meet! We want to see how he _likes _her, don't we?" Marilla pushed gently.

"He's sleeping," Anne said flatly. She kept the basket pressed against herself.

There was an awkward silence, until Mrs. Warren cleared her throat. "I believe I'd better go check the oven. I put muffins in earlier, and I'd hate to let them get overdone. Excuse me."

Marilla knew exactly why Mrs. Warren had left. She closed the door softly and came over to Anne. "Are you uncomfortable with the situation here?" she asked.

"No, why?"

"You seemed rather distrustful of Mrs. Warren and I was worried you'd gotten a bad feeling about her."

"I didn't. Did you?"

"No," Marilla said, intently staring at Anne. "I think she seems very nice and normal. But I thought you'd perhaps felt something I hadn't. You seem...unwilling to move ahead."

"I'm not," Anne said with a frown. "I'm glad we're here. I'm glad to leave him!"

"Could you get him out of his basket so she can meet him?'

"I don't want to wake him up," Anne argued.

"But Anne, I don't want him to wake up to us _gone_. This will be confusing for him, you know. He ought to begin to know her and the house while we're still here with him."

Anne looked unsure.

"I also think it's important that we see how she interacts with him."

Anne sighed. She looked away. "She can look at him later."

"Let's go downstairs," Marilla said, shaking her head.

Down in the kitchen, Marilla said, "Remember Mrs. Warren wants you to show her exactly how Walter likes his bottles."

"He isn't particular," Anne said offhandedly. "He's even fine with them cold, so you needn't bother with how they're made."

"Would you like for us to get one ready together now?" Mrs. Warren asked, getting a pot out.

Anne shook her head. "He doesn't want to eat right now."

Mrs. Warren put the pot back into the cupboard. "All right. Can you think of anything else I ought to know about him?"

Anne bit her lip. "He might be awful. I hope you won't hate him."

"My goodness, child! What a thing to say! Of _course _I won't hate him!" Mrs. Warren cried.

"You haven't seen him yet," Anne pointed out. "Everyone thinks he's sweet, but…"

She finally lifted back the blanket that covered his basket.

Mrs. Warren caught her first glimpse of the little blonde boy. "Oh, Anne...isn't he just the cutest thing?"

"No, he isn't," Anne answered her plainly. "He isn't a bit cute. Everyone seems to think he is, but he isn't."

Mrs. Warren again glanced at Marilla. She did not know how to respond to that.

They sat in the parlor for a long time, Marilla and Mrs. Warren chatting about the baby's diet and daily routine, and the talk turned to religious matters of how Walter ought to be brought up, and various other topics. But Anne just sat. Walter stayed asleep, and Anne held his basket on her lap with her arms wrapped tightly around it.

Eventually Mr. Warren came in, and the children returned home from school. They were noisy at first- a jolly, bumbling lot who shouted about things that had happened at school and giggled and argued good-naturedly. They stopped short when they saw Anne.

"Children, this is-"

Robert, the oldest, a chubby, curly-headed boy of nine, interrupted. "You said a lady was coming. She's no lady. She's just a little girl."

Anne blushed scarlet and wished her baby was not noticeable.

"Uh- Robert- _this _is the lady I said was coming- Miss Cuthbert," Mrs. Warren said, directing attention to Marilla. "This is her daughter, Anne. And I will remind you to use your manners, please. They've come a long way and are excited to meet you children and see our home, and I'd like them to know I raised good, polite children!"

"Sorry, Aunt Maud," Robert said with a cheeky grin. "Wanna see my room?" he asked Anne. "I have a train with an engine and it goes round and round on the tracks. And I have a whistle to blow when I play with it, just like a real conductor!"

Anne whispered, "No, thank you."

"She's probably already seen our rooms," a little blonde girl said. She looked to Anne just like Alice in Wonderland, with her yellow hair held back by a black ribbon and her pretty robins egg blue dress. "I'm Eleanor," she told Anne. "And this-" she pointed to the girl with brown hair- "is Nancy, and this is Peter-"

"And I'm Rosie," the littlest girl piped up. "I'm five!"

Anne tried to smile at them, but could not.

"Anne, did you notice the girls all have puffed sleeves?" Marilla said with a twinkle in her eye. While she herself found them to be ridiculous and a waste of material, she knew how much Anne liked them- and despite her baby being a boy with no need of puffed sleeves, Marilla thought that Anne might like knowing she was leaving her baby with the sort of person who _believed _in puffed sleeves.

"Yes," was all Anne said.

"Who's baby is it?" Rosie, the littlest girl, asked. "Is it yours?"

Anne looked startled. A child at home in Avonlea would not likely have assumed that Anne was the mother. But then she realized that all of these children had been left by mothers who may have been young, too, and Mrs. Warren had probably prepared them for Anne's visit.

"Yes," was all Anne said again.

"Can we see?" Eleanor asked, pushing them forward.

But Anne pulled the basket closer to herself, shielding him from curious eyes.

Mr. Warren glanced at his wife and seemed to sense that there was some problem, and he said, brightly, "Children, why don't we go out to the pond with the leftover bread? The geese haven't all flown south for the winter yet, and we could give them a snack."

The children's attention left Anne and they scurried away, again becoming noisy. "Are you coming, Anne?" Robert called back. He grinned at her again.

"No," Anne whispered.

Marilla couldn't help thinking about how strange it was for Anne to be so still, so quiet. She seemed almost frozen.

Mr. Warren poked his head back into the parlor. "There's a carriage out here- just pulled up. I take it it's for you? I'm sorry we didn't really get to chat-" he came back into the room. He was about to shake hands when he laughed because he was still holding the leftover bread to take to the pond. "I hope you got a chance to have a good talk with Maud. Please come and visit us any time-"

"Uncle Isaac, come on!" one of the children called out from the back door.

Anne did not say one word to him, but Marilla said goodbye for her.

"Well, that's that," Marilla said with a breath, looking at Anne. "The carriage is waiting. We have his bags here; it doesn't seem that we've forgotten anything."

Anne blinked twice, seeming to come out of a trance, and looked up at her. "Oh- oh, yes," she said. "We're going now."

She set the baby basket down on the floor in front of her feet, letting go of the handles for the first time, and stood up.

But then she stood staring down at the basket for a moment.

"Anne, do you want to take him out and say goodbye-" Marilla began, but Anne said quickly:

"No. I best not. Let's go, Marilla".

Marilla looked surprised. "All right. I just thought- it's your chance to-"

Anne went to the door. "Please Marilla, I want to go, let's go quickly!"

She pulled on the doorknob.


	98. The Right Thing

Marilla looked worried. "You go on out to the carriage, Anne. I won't be a minute."

Anne rushed away.

Mrs. Warren frowned. "I see a great deal many unwed mothers, you know. Most of them don't handle the goodbye very well. But I'm used to them being demonstrative- that poor girl looks like she's in a trance. Are you sure she understands what she's doing?"

Marilla looked sad. "I think she's all too sure about what she's doing. ...Thank you, Mrs. Warren. We _will_ plan to visit. ...I'm just not sure when."

Mrs. Warren looked concerned and bid her farewell.

Marilla found Anne sitting in the carriage alone, staring ahead and anxiously jiggling one leg, her boot loudly tapping the floor of the carriage.

Anne leaned out of the doorway. "What took you so long?" she asked, upset. "Let's go!"

The driver offered his hand to Marilla as she climbed into the carriage.

"How do you feel about what we're doing?" Marilla asked her, once they had taken off.

Anne stared ahead, and said without any emotion: "Everything seems to be in order. We did what we came to do. It's all settled."

Marilla hesitated. "Yes, that's true."

Anne stared ahead with a stony expression, her face hard and unreadable.

But Marilla let her eyes travel down and saw Anne's arms positioned on her lap, brought slightly together, palms turned just slightly up...she was cradling nothing but air.

After a while Anne seemed to come out of a dream. She shook herself a bit, looked down at her arms, and took a shaky breath. She flattened her arms down and sucked in her breath, as if trying to form her resolve.

Marilla hesitated, but then said Anne, "I know we talked and talked about this, and we agreed it was in everyone's best interest. But sometimes things decided based on logic don't always come out so well once emotion gets involved. ...We talked about _that_, too."

Anne stared ahead with empty eyes.

Marilla pressed, "Remember?"

But Anne only repeated herself: "Everything is in order. We did what we came to do. It's all been settled."

"But it's _not _settled Anne- not if you don't _want _it to be."

Anne tried to breath.

Marilla went on, "I can see how hard this is for you. You'll tell me you put that basket down and rushed out because you're relieved to be rid of him and go back home. But I know that isn't true, Anne. I know you rushed away and didn't want to pick him up because it would have only made it harder. Is that right?"

A strange noise escaped Anne, and it reminded Marilla of a frightened kitten.

Marilla put her hand on her shoulder. "Anne, it's all right- tell me the truth now. It isn't too late."

Anne looked to her side at Marilla. "Why?" She asked. "What's _wrong _with me? This was supposed to be a _good _thing. This was supposed to be the _right _thing! This was supposed to make everything go back to how it was before- no baby, no Billy, no reminder of what _happened…_"

Marilla thought about this. "I think that it was wise of you to consider the fact that the baby might remind you of Billy. It was a wise thing to think about. But... you're not going to forget what he did."

Anne's face was white and her hands shook.

"I didn't realize until today that the _weather _affected you so. You've stayed in the house so much and I thought you just felt too down to go out and do anything. I didn't know that the _leaves _were actually upsetting you."

Anne didn't say anything.

"What frightens you about the leaves, Anne?"

Anne finally answered- her voice hushed- "The sound of them crunching under our boots."

"All right," Marilla answered quietly.

"My bookstrap and my lunch basket dropping into them."

Marilla nodded.

"The sound of them- dry and crispy- next to my ears."

"Next to your _ears?_" Marilla repeated softly. "But- _Oh_."

"Leaves have a smell, too, you know," Anne told her, looking down.

"Yes, they do," Marilla agreed.

"_Everything_ about _fall_ has a smell," she went on, her voice shaky. "And there's the cool air. And the foggy mornings. And...and I didn't know that fall would _be _this way for me now."

Marilla nodded slowly. "I didn't think about that before, Anne. That when the weather outside is the same, it...it makes you feel as though you're right back to it, doesn't it?"

Marilla felt helpless. She did not know what to do about this revelation; she could not bring the whole earth to a halt and prevent the fall from coming. Though she'd do it if she could.

"I'm not sure how to help you," she admitted.

"There isn't any way to help me. I just have to _forget_," Anne insisted. She looked up at Marilla's face, as if pleading with her: "Things will get better then."

Marilla knew that her expression was doubtful, and seeing Anne's disheartened face, Marilla clarified, "Things _will _get better. You _will _go on and live your life again. What Billy did won't destroy you...but Anne, you'll never _forget_."

Anne shook her head. "When Walter is _gone _I can _start _forgetting. I'll never be able to forget about this if he's _with _me!"

"You won't forget whether he's with you or not," Marilla said, shaking her head sadly.

Anne was desperate: "You don't _know _that! Maybe much, _much _later, when I'm _old_, then I won't remember anymore! If I...If I have a good long life, full of other things- happy things!- then I'll _replace _that memory with_ others!"_

"No," Marilla said seriously. "Anne, I'm _old_."

"_Marilla-"_

"No. _Listen _to me, Anne."

Marilla began again: "I've never been hurt in the way that you have. But there are _other _things. Injustices against me, and some things I, myself, did to others. Things far, far less important, that I can't get out of my mind. Decades ago, and I still remember them."

Anne stared at her, hopeless.

Then Anne's voice broke as she cried desperately: "But I can't go on _living _if I believe _that_ to be true!" Her tears came falling down. "I can't! I _have _to believe it'll be _forgotten! _If...if I have to think that I'll _live _for fifty _years _with that in my _head_... I can't _do _it Marilla, I can't live a long life with _this _still in my _memory!"_

"Yes, you can," Marilla said, pulling Anne close. Her voice was calm and steady. "You _can_. It will never go away, but as time goes on it won't feel so fresh, so raw, and you'll see that you _can _keep on living. ...You'll even be happy again, darling."

"I _can't _be happy as long as I have to remember this," Anne whispered.

"Don't say that _now,_" Marilla comforted. "There are a lot of lovely things in your future. Try to _imagine _them- I know you can."

Anne leaned against her. She tried.

"Do you _really _think I could be happy again, even _if _I have to carry this memory with me all those years?" Anne finally asked, feeling defeated.

"Even _though _you have to carry this memory with you all those years," Marilla repeated, bringing her other arm around her too. "Nothing can defeat you. I know it. Your mind will hang onto that day, but your mind will make room for happy times too, and you'll see that they can exist together."

They were quiet.

Finally Anne said. "I hoped that if Walter went away then I could forget."

Marilla hesitated, then said, "Just like you won't forget what happened that day, you won't forget Walter either. Even if you don't see him anymore. You might even spend _more _time thinking about him once he's gone from you. So...you have to decide, Anne- if it will be easier for you to think about him while he's by your side, or if it will be easier to think about him while he's far away."

Anne put her hands over her face. She did not know what to do.

"Driver," Marilla said loudly as she tapped on the window. After a couple of tries, the driver heard her, turned around to look at Marilla, who motioned for him to stop. When he did, she opened the door and leaned out to say, "Would you be kind enough to stop a moment? I need to talk to my daughter before we go any further."

"Sure, ma'am," he said. "Long as we're back to the station on time for your train?"

"We won't be long," Marilla said, and shut the door. She turned back to Anne.

But Anne had lifted up the bottom of her petticoat and was sobbing into it. Marilla put her arm around her. After a moment Anne forced out, "What's _wrong _with me? We were doing everything _right_. This was the right thing. It _was!"_

Marilla rubbed her back. "Sometimes there just isn't a right or a wrong."

"Then how do I know what to do?" Anne choked out.

"You must listen inside yourself."

Anne cried, every bit of emotion bursting out of her.

"You know, Mrs. Warren told me she was concerned that this wasn't what you'd truly settled on," Marilla said after a moment.

Anne could not speak.

"...Do you want to go back, Anne?"

Anne was still for a split second, then she erupted into a fresh round of tears as she nodded her head emphatically.

"Driver," Marilla called out, "Could you take us back to the Warren farm please?"


	99. Let's Go Home

They drove back to the Warrens, Marilla with her arm around Anne, and Anne trying desperately- and unsuccessfully- to stop crying.

"It's all right, Anne, it's all right! You needn't cry, we're going back right now!"

"Make him drive faster," Anne choked.

By the time they arrived back, Anne could barely breathe and her face was splotchy and red.

They stood on the Warren's porch.

Mrs. Warren answered at Marilla's knock, not looking especially surprised to see them.

She looked at Anne- standing on her front porch, _still _crying her eyes out- and she opened the door wider, saying kindly to her: "He's in the cradle."

Anne ran into the house, clattering into things but not caring.

Marilla and Mrs. Warren watched her flee from them in search of her baby.

"Well, I don't know what to say," Marilla said with a sigh. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time. And to have promised you an income only to rescind it! We'll still pay you the first month; it's only right, after you've been expecting us."

Mrs. Warren shook her head, saying, "I received a letter from a girl only yesterday. I was going to have to tell her I didn't have room; I didn't think I could take on two young infants at the same time. Now I'll be able to after all. ...She really needed to find a place to keep her baby, she sounded very desperate! You see, most girls in Anne's position simply don't have the kind of support that you're giving Anne. It really makes me feel good to see it."

* * *

Anne fell over the cradle, heaving with sobs as she yanked her baby from it.

She woke him up, with the reckless pulling of the bed and the careless way she grabbed at him, and he began fussing, but she squeezed him tightly against her- too tightly, and he began wailing- but that didn't stop her.

Marilla rushed in to find Anne on the floor of the Warren's bedroom, hunched over the screaming baby, sobbing into him as she held his little head in her hands.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed, slumped over him. "I _left _you!"

She pulled him up and, pressing him against her, she gasped: "I left you! I just...I just..._left_ you!"

Then she looked at him, his face screwed up in unhappiness as he was held much too tightly.

Anne begged his forgiveness: "I won't _ever _leave you again, I _won't! ..._You _do _believe me, _don't _you?"

And she kept crying, rocking as she held the wailing baby.

Marilla rushed over to her, kneeling protectively at her side. "Anne, it's all right. It's all...Anne, loosen your grip on him; you're _hurting _him! He won't be able to _breathe!"_

Marilla pulled the baby away from Anne, not removing him from her arms but just forcing him out of the tight grasp that was causing him to cry.

Mrs. Warren, standing in the doorway, looked at Marilla, feeling glad that this young girl had family who would let her hold on to her baby and support her, when so many other girls who'd crossed her path had been so unsupported and felt they had no choice but to give theirs up.

Marilla tried to get Anne to calm down. "Come now," she said. "You don't have to make grand apologies to him- he's just a baby, he doesn't know what's what!"

Mrs. Warren looked at Anne kindly. "He does know one thing- he knows who his mother is."

* * *

Marilla and Anne packed away the baby's things and got ready to go- after they'd fixed Walter a bottle, at Mrs. Warren's insistence. "Please, feel free to use the stove before you go, and fix an extra one so you have something to give him on the train."

"Thank you," Marilla told her, getting a bottle started. Anne sat on a kitchen stool, her face streaked with tears, Walter held again too tightly in her arms. She thought about making the bottle for him herself, but then she would have had to set him down, and she did not want to let go of him for even a moment.

As they were waiting for the bottle, all of the little ones came back in. They were surprised to see Anne.

"What are _you _still doing here?" Robbie asked her.

"Robbie! That didn't sound a bit polite," Mrs. Warren scolded.

Marilla liked Robbie's outspokenness- not because she thought children ought to be allowed to be outspoken, but because Robbie's outspokenness told her that Mrs. Warren _must _be kind to these children. If the children were fearful of her, they wouldn't dare speak out with any impertinence.

"Sorry," Robbie shrugged. "Do you want to come play with us? Say, what's _wrong _with you? You look awful funny."

Anne could not speak.

"Anne's not feeling very well, and needs peace and quiet," Mrs. Warren told him. "Why don't you and the other children play upstairs? And if you have homework, please start it now. I'll be putting supper on soon."

"Is she staying for dinner?" Robbie wanted to know.

"I don't believe so," Mrs. Warren said. "Though she's certainly welcome to."

Robbie ran off, and in a few minutes Anne heard the sound of the children running up the stairs.

Anne's grip on Walter was making him fussy again.

"Dear, you must not _squeeze _him so!" Marilla told her, leaving the bottle to go to Anne and force her to loosen her death grip on her baby.

When the bottle was ready, Anne did not seem to know what to do with him. She tried to take the bottle Marilla offered her, but faltered and dropped it. Marilla caught it quickly before it dropped. "You're a bit shaky, aren't you? Do you want me to feed him?"

Anne nodded. She had not fed him in several days and somehow it now felt unnatural to her. Marilla stood with Anne and held the bottle to Walter's mouth for her. Eventually Marilla took Anne's hand and put it around the bottle too, but held it with her. When Walter had finished bottle, Marilla rinsed it out in the sink. Anne sat, still holding him tight, and shaking.

"I don't think we ought to wait any longer to go," Marilla said with a glance at the clock. "We've got the driver waiting with the carriage outside, and if we make him wait too long then we'll have to go on the seven-thirty train because we'll have missed the six o'clock one. And you know Matthew will be waiting for us on the six o'clock."

Anne nodded. She was anxious to get away from here and go home. She kept having an awful feeling that she'd lose him somehow; that they were going to leave him here anyway, even though she no longer wanted to.

Marilla got out an oven glove she'd brought on the train and slipped the second bottle inside it. "Thank you for allowing us to get these ready here."

Mrs. Warren smiled. "No trouble at all. Anne- do you need something to eat before you go? You look a bit pale, dear. You're shaking!"

Anne, still ghostly, shook her head. She wiped her nose right on her sleeve, despite her previous complaint that Walter had ruined her dress by drooling on it.

"Oh, Anne, goodness, use your handkerchief!" Marilla said, embarrassed. "Well, we'd better go. Thank you again, Mrs. Warren."

Anne and Marilla made their way to the door. Marilla picked up one of Walter's bags and Mrs. Warren took the other one out to the carriage for them. Anne finally placed Walter in his basket again because she found it too difficult to carry the empty basket while carrying him against her; she couldn't see where she was going.

Before they got into the carriage, Anne turned to Mrs. Warren. "Thank you for being _willing_ to keep him. ...I was an orphan, you know, from the time I was three months old, and if I'd been a baby who grew up in a home like this, I'd...I'd have had _such _a lovely childhood. Thank you for...for Robbie, Eleanor, Nancy, Peter, and Rosie...they don't know how _lucky _they are."

Mrs. Warren gave her a sweet smile. "I appreciate that. Thank you. And you're going to do just fine with this little one. I know you are."

Anne bit her lip. "I ought to pay you, anyway. You planned on having him and…"

Mrs. Warren shook her head. "Your mother and I talked about that. I had another young lady who needed to find a place, too, and since Walter won't be staying, I'm free to tell her yes."

"Is she a young girl?" Anne wanted to know.

"No, she's nineteen and engaged. Her parents wanted her to wait until she turned twenty-one before she and her fiancee could marry. But they..._didn't_ wait for _everything_, clearly, so now they've got a conundrum! Her parents sent her to live with a friend in another town while she's expecting, with the idea that she'd find someone to adopt the baby once it's born. ...But she and her fiance don't want to lose their baby, and they were trying to figure out a way to manage things without putting their parents through shame. She's due any day now and quite desperate. So I'm glad I'll be able to offer up our services."

"Will she ever come see it?" Anne asked, feeling for this stranger, now that she knew what it was like to say goodbye.

"Oh, yes. She and her fiance still plan to marry, and they'll take their baby back once they do."

"How will they take it?" Anne asked, confused. "Once they take it back, it'll be about two years old, so everyone will know they had it _before_ they were married!"

"I expect they'll invent a story- people always do- of some such relative who passed on unexpectedly and so it's a little nephew or niece they're taking in to raise. People accept that."

Anne thought it sounded very confusing for a child to be told his parents were his aunt and uncle.

"There's something I don't understand," Anne began. "If people shouldn't do..._things..._with each other when they aren't married, then it's a _sin_, isn't it?"

"Yes," Marilla interjected matter-of-factly.

"But _you _told me that telling _lies _is a sin, too," Anne went on, slowly, thinking about this. "So if you do something to have a baby...and then you tell a _lie _about _having _the baby, then haven't you sinned _twice _instead of _once?"_

"Well..."

That set Anne off on thinking, and she went on, "And does it count as a whole _new _sin every time you _tell _it? ...If you tell fifty people that it isn't your baby, then have you sinned fifty times?"

Marilla was uncomfortable because she did not know what to say.

Finally she stammered, "Uh..well, we can deal with matters of theology when we get home, Anne. For now let's just get Walter settled. We can't miss our train."

Anne accepted this. She looked down. "Did you hear that? We're going home."


	100. Family

On the carriage ride to the train station, Anne kept glancing into the baby basket, as if wanting to make sure that the baby was still there.

Finally she took Walter out of the basket and held him.

"You don't have to hold him, he was fine in the basket," Marilla said, only because she was interested in what Anne might say to that.

Anne said, "I _want_ to hold him."

Then after a moment she said, "I never _wanted_ to before."

Marilla smiled to herself as Anne clasped his little hands in her own.

Marilla didn't expect this to suddenly change things- she knew, now, what the Fall meant to Anne, and she knew that Anne's depression would not magically disappear, and that having the role of mother was still a very difficult thing for her to accept at her age and under these difficult circumstances…but if Anne realized she wanted her baby to _stay_ with her, then there was _hope_.

* * *

Walter felt sleepy and confused on the carriage ride to the train station. Everything was mixed up.

On the way _to _the New Place, he had slept a long time, lulled into a heavy slumber by the rocking motion of the carriage and train rides.

But when he had woken up later, he felt his mama's arms dragging him roughly from a bed that wasn't his own, in a room that wasn't his own, and his mama was making awful noises.

He began to cry, too.

He did not know where he was. He knew only that he was being squeezed so tight he could not breathe.

And then one of his _Mmmms_ was there, pulling him away from his mama, and he could breathe again- until mama took him back and then he couldn't.

He was pulled back and forth until things calmed and a bottle was brought to his mouth. It was better than the bottle he'd had on the train- that one had been cold- and he sucked at this one until it was dry, and he felt better.

Then they all went away from the different lady and the different house and they went back into the carriage.

The carriage made him feel sleepy, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He did not _want_ to go to sleep because he had his mama again and she was holding him in a way that he hadn't felt her holding him in a very long time.

Finally, no longer able to keep his eyes open, he let them close, listening to the sound of his mama's voice and the beating of her heart.

* * *

When the train pulled into the station at last, Anne felt she could breathe normally for the first time.

Here they were.

Here they were at _home_, and her baby was home, too, and she began to lose that panicky feeling that she might look down at any moment to see him gone.

Coming out, she saw Matthew almost immediately, and nearly dropped her baby in her joy to see dear, _dear _Matthew.

She did not have the patience to wait as people filed out of the train, and her feet tapped the floor, impatient, until at last she and Marilla had room to get out.

"Matthew!" she called over the throng. "Matthew!"

Matthew was smiling.

"Anne, if you don't want me to drop all these bottles and us have nothing to feed him with, then stop pushing and calm yourself before you make me drop our bags!" Marilla said firmly.

Anne swallowed and tried to be patient.

Finally they were with him. Anne set the basket down so she could throw herself into his arms. But she could not relax, and anxiously pulled away from him, glancing down to make sure her baby was still there.

"You have a good trip?" Matthew asked her.

"The train was pleasant enough, but that carriage was a bumpy ride and I expect we'll have bruises," Marilla told him. "The driver was good to wait on us but my, that carriage could use a good cleaning!"

Matthew smiled. "Anne?"

Anne felt almost embarrassed, having made them take a long journey that now had been for no purpose. "I'm sorry to have made you go all that way, Marilla," she began.

But Marilla waved that off. "I think it was worth it. You know what you want now."

Anne wanted to smile but could not. She knew she felt upset at the thought of the baby being taken from her, but she also worried she'd made a mistake- maybe things would not really be any different after all. She tried to shake those doubts out of her head. She was _home_, that was all that mattered, and she had another chance to _try_ to make things work with the baby.

She picked up the basket and showed Matthew the baby, watching his eyes melt.

"So Marilla was able to convince you to let this be a _visit_." He pulled her close again. "I agreed with her, when she said you oughta just check the place out first, before you leave him permanent."

Anne shook her head. "I didn't. I mean _she _didn't. I mean...I don't want to take him there."

"Not a good place, eh?" Matthew said softly. He felt torn- he was glad to see the baby again, but he also felt for her that it hadn't worked out the way she'd wanted.

Anne shook her head. "No. I don't want to take him _anywhere _at _all_. I want him to stay _right _here. ...I mean...if you all will still have him here, that is."

Matthew and Marilla looked at each other, startled that she even had to ask. "If we'll still _have _him here?" Marilla asked in surprise.

Matthew laughed, everything he'd held in coming out. "He's _ours_, every _bit _as much as _you_ are."

And he pulled her to him.

After a moment, Marilla too: they stood on the platform, in a hug, the baby in his basket squished between them, and they were a family again, because Walter had come home.


	101. Another Family

Because it was fall, it was dark early. Anne sat with the baby basket between her feet on the floor of the buggy, a blanket draped over the basket to keep Walter warm inside. She was too tired to speak much, and she could tell the day had worn on Marilla, too.

Once Green Gables was in sight, Anne was overcome by a yawn. Matthew lifted his hand from the reins and put his arm around her.

As soon as they were in the house, they did what they needed to do to get Walter settled for the night, and got into their nightgowns themselves. "I hope he won't wake up too much," Anne said sleepily. "I don't know if I can get myself up!"

Marilla smiled to herself because Anne had actually mentioned- as if she was _really _planning on _doing _it- the idea of getting up to take _care _of him.

* * *

Anne had a dream that night.

In her dream, she was at the Warren farm, ready to leave Walter.

Anne looked down at the baby, thinking about him sleeping in _this_ room at night, while she slept in _her_ room at Green Gables.

She wondered if she would hear him when he cried.

_Of course I won't- what a silly thought! He'll be a million miles away; I'm not going to hear him when he cries! _

_And I won't __**need **__to, because__** I**__ won't be the one who has to __**answer**__ his cries!_

She thought that would make her feel better, to know that there would be someone else who would take good care of him while she went about her own days.

Somehow she couldn't rest in that thought_._

…_But what if I hear him__** anyway? **_

_What if I can __**still **__hear him, somehow, even if it's only just inside my head? _

_What if I still wake up when he cries, only I won't be able to get __**to**__ him…_

Anne came out of that dream crying.

Marilla was shaking her. "Anne, wake up."

Suddenly Anne shot up, breathing hard,

"Marilla, I'm _sorry_," she gasped. She looked around for Walter.

But Marilla was standing in front of her, the baby against her white nightgown, his little hand lazily holding onto her long gray braided hair.

"It's _all right,_ Anne, I've already got him _settled!_ I only woke you because you were having a nightmare."

"Oh," Anne said, beginning to calm down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Marilla asked gently.

Anne looked at her. "It wasn't...it wasn't about _that_."

"It wasn't?" Marilla asked. "You can tell me, you know. You needn't be ashamed of it."

Anne shook her head. "I had a dream that Walter was at their farm and he was crying and I could _hear _him but I was too far away to _reach _him!"

Marilla handed her the baby, saying, "Well, here he is, close enough to reach."

Anne accepted him.

Marilla went on, "I gave him his bottle. Why don't you get him to burp and then change him, if he needs it? It'll give you a chance to hold him a few minutes, to stave off any further bad dreams."

She walked over to her side of her bed and pulled the covers back, climbing in. "Just put him back in his own bed, remember...I couldn't sleep a wink if I thought I might chance rolling over him in bed."

Marilla lay down, enjoying that she was able to hand the baby off to Anne and go back to sleep. _She'd _been the one to get up with him when he cried, still, but once he'd been fed she could go right back to sleep without delay. Anne could handle the rest.

And Anne _did _handle the rest. As Marilla snored on, Anne looked after her baby.

First she put Walter up to her shoulder and got him to burp, and then she wiped his face.

After this, she decided she could hold him, like Marilla suggested. First she lay him on her lap, but realized quickly that that meant looking at his face, which she didn't feel ready to do.

She sighed unhappily- until she had the idea to lift him back up to her shoulder the same way he'd been when she was burping him.

_Yes, this is better,_ she thought: This way his face was against her, so she could avoid his eyes.

"...I think I'll hold you _this _way for right _now_," she explained to him, "Because...because, um...because this way I can rub your back! And you'd like _that_, wouldn't you?"

She quickly began rubbing his back as he lay against her shoulder. He was sleepy and warm, and she found it rather pleasant to have him snuggled against her. It was a new feeling, one she hadn't had before.

Eventually she could feel that he needed to be changed. She slid out of bed and sat on the floor with him, placing him on a clean towel. She unpinned his wet diaper and rolled it up, intending to wash it in the morning. She got a washcloth and pitcher and bowl and cleaned him. Then she took a fresh cloth diaper and pinned it on. "I don't like changing you," she told him honestly. "But you don't know how to go to the privy, so I guess this will have to do for now."

Walter was watching her intently. Once he was clean and she had washed her hands, she picked him back up. She _tried _to set him down in his bed, but he made noises and did not want her to leave him.

She decided to sit a few more minutes, on the floor next to his bed, holding him. "I don't know why you want _me _so much," she said to him. "What have_ I _ever done for you? Other people have done so much _more_, but you still want _me_. I guess you really must like me, huh?"

His eyes were closing, but he was trying hard to keep them open and stay awake.

"Look at you, fighting your sleep again! You still haven't told me why you always _do _that," she reminded him. "Oh well, maybe someday you will. We've got a long time to talk, haven't we? You're not going anywhere."

* * *

But the next day, Anne wondered whether she'd made the right decision.

As she gave Walter his bottle, she stared at him, not in the enraptured trance that mothers so often have, but in worry, her lined face seeming far older than her tender years.

_He's little. _

_But I __**already**__ don't like the way he looks. _

_And he doesn't __**look **__like __**me **__a bit. _

_Everything about the way he looks is…Bil-_

…_Oh_, _what if it just gets worse as he grows up?_

Marilla's heart plummeted to the floor when Anne hesitantly said, "I wonder if they'd take him after all."

"Yesterday you wanted him. Today you don't?"

Anne struggled to explain herself. "I don't know that I don't _want _him. It...it isn't really about _wanting _him or not."

"What _is _it, then?"

Anne did not answer. She did not know how to.

"Anne...remember that Mrs. Warren said there was another girl who needed to leave her baby with them. She said she was going to write to her that very day. I don't think they'll be able to take on Walter now."

"…Oh," was Anne said. She sounded disappointed.

Marilla sighed, but then said kindly: "We _can_ look to see if there's somewhere else he can go, but...I'm afraid you'll end up just like you were yesterday. You didn't want him to go then. You were more upset than I've ever seen you!"

"Well...I couldn't let him think he was abandoned. Unwanted. An orphan."

"But you know that isn't the case, he isn't an orphan at all."

"No, I suppose he's not an orphan, not technically. He has two living parents. But when one has no interest in you and the other one drops you off at a stranger's house, then you might as well be an orphan."

"Oh, Anne! You sound as if you think you were _abandoning _him. You were just finding a different place for him to live. Those are two entirely separate things."

Anne nodded slowly. "Yes, I see. But…"

Marilla, seeing how listless she looked, asked, "Is it the schedule of things? I know you're tired. But I don't want you to make big decisions based on being tired, because his schedule _will_ change, you know- once he starts sleeping through the night, it will begin to be easier."

"I don't know," Anne said quietly.

* * *

Dr. Carter came by to do a check up on Walter. Anne was asleep.

Marilla told him the events that had transpired the previous day. "I'm not sure what to do," she said in conclusion. "She's made it clear she _wants _him...or at least, that she doesn't want to be _without _him. But today she's melancholy again! She's even questioning whether she did the right thing in deciding to keep him! ...You know, doctor, I really think that it's just the fall weather talking _for _her!"

"The fall is still bothering her?" he asked, looking upset.

"Yes, and I wish fall was over!" Marilla sighed. "I feel all the strength is being taken from her! She doesn't have energy to _fight _it."

"Melancholy _is _hard to remedy," Dr. Carter began. "But when one has such melancholy and then can't even get a full night's _sleep_, it's very difficult to bounce back. And we know that uninterrupted sleep is a rare occurrence when you have a baby!"

Marilla looked a bit melancholy herself.

Dr. Carter said, more hopefully, "Walter's past three months now, though, and some babies start sleeping through the night as early as four months. If we're lucky, he'll start early."

Then he had a thought. "You know," he said, "Walter _might _begin sleeping through the night at _about _the same time the fall weather is gone. So if we could just get Anne through the next three weeks… Miss Cuthbert, would you be able to- _just _for the next couple of weeks- get up with the baby and let Anne sleep through the night? ...I hate to _suggest _it- you need _your _sleep, too!- but I think that if she was able to have a regular _schedule_ again, like she did before the baby, with uninterrupted sleep like girls her age _ought_ to be getting, she'd have the energy to fight through this melancholy and make it through the fall."

"I'll do it," Marilla said instantly. "It'll be a hard couple of weeks, but I'm willing."

"She should still take care of him during the day, though," Dr. Carter insisted. "I don't mean for you to do all while she lies about! I just think the full night's sleep will improve her."

Marilla said, "I'm not a bit worried about Anne taking care of him now, I'm only worried about her _loving _him. Because I know that once she feels more loving toward him, then she'll _want _to take care of him."

* * *

Later, Marilla told Anne what Dr. Carter had said. "He thinks you haven't the _energy _to fight through the fall weather, and I agree, and that if you were able to sleep through the night you'd start making improvements."

Anne stood there, biting her lip and looking unconvinced. "You _already _help. Marilla, you do _everything_. I didn't even get his bottle last night. You did!"

"Yes, but I want you to sleep better. Being tired leaves you discouraged."

Anne didn't say anything. She was thinking.

"I know you miss your bedroom. I think you ought to go back up to your own room now, Anne. I'll keep Walter down with me. You'll sleep all night, undisturbed, and then during the daytime _you'll _take care of him. And during the night, I will."

"But you'll get tired, Marilla."

"It's only a couple of weeks. When two weeks have gone by, we'll re-evaluate. You may be better by then."

"I wish I could just...snap out of it!"

Marilla couldn't help smiling. "That is exactly what Rachel Lynde told me. _Marilla, she needs to snap out of it! _But it isn't that _simple_. ...I didn't understand how much of your condition was tied to the weather. We'll _all _be glad when fall is over, and then things will start looking up! You're not to worry."

Anne tried not to.

* * *

After school, Gilbert came.

Anne hugged him tight the moment he was through the door, then pulled away.

"You smell like...fall," she told him, her nose crinkling.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking repentant as if it was some personal fault of his. He stepped further away from her.

Anne tried to smile.

She reached out and held his hand. "It's all right. I'm trying hard to…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "I'll get through it."

Gilbert was overjoyed to hear Anne proclaim that she _would _get through it.

Anne led him into the house.

A lump came to Gilbert's throat when he saw what he presumed to be Walter's _empty_ baby basket on the floor in the kitchen.

He stopped, emotion coming over him, and then turned away, trying to look at Anne with optimism.

Anne said, "I thought maybe we could do school again. Maybe Miss Stacy could come back, and-"

As Anne was talking, she was going over to the basket to retrieve Walter from it.

Gilbert could not focus on what she was saying anymore because she had picked the baby up and his eyes were glued to the baby in _disbelief_.

"_Anne-"_

He came over, touching Walter, as if he had to know if he was really there.

"Anne, what happened? He's…" Gilbert let out a laugh as Walter reached toward him.

Anne let the baby move into Gilbert's arms, and Gilbert held him, his hand over Walter's head, pressing the baby to him. His eyes were closed.

After a moment Anne said, "Gilbert, you're crying!"

Gilbert opened his eyes. He laughed a little again, trying to wipe at them inconspicuously. "You were taking him…Did you change your mind?"

"Yes," Anne said. "I did. I couldn't leave him there like that. He...he likes me."

"He _likes_ you?" Gilbert echoed, a laugh released again.

"And he wouldn't have understood why I left him. He would have missed me."

"He _would_ have. But...:"

"And I decided I don't _really_ want him to be _gone_, after all. Marilla helped me see that Walter going away wasn't going to solve my problem."

Gilbert's face turned serious.

"My problem isn't really with _Walter_. I mean, it _is _by...by proxy, sort of. But...getting rid of the _baby _won't _fix _it. ...I don't need to get rid of the baby, I need to get rid of _fall!"_

Gilbert reached out to hug her again, but then stopped himself, remembering that _he_ smelled like fall.

But Anne shook her head and fell into his side anyway. She held her breath to avoid breathing in the scent of the weather on his clothes, and let him envelope her. Fall or no fall, his very presence was healing.

They stayed together a long moment, Gilbert holding his two loves in each arm.

When Anne pulled away, finally, she asked him. "Gilbert, you know...I worry that…that if we ever wanted to get married, I'd have spoiled it by having…" she tilted her head toward the baby. "Because he's sort of...in the way."

"In the way?"

"When you wanted to get married, I didn't _have_ him yet- I mean I did, technically, but we didn't even _know _about him then! _Now_, well, if _I_ have him, then…"

"Then _I_ have him too?" Gilbert finished for her.

She nodded, biting her lip.

Gilbert brought her back to him. "You're sort of a two-for-one deal, now," he told her quietly, his mouth by her ear. "Can't have one without the other."

Anne smiled.

"I'm _glad_ you let him come back, Anne. I love him, and-"

"You do?" Anne asked, emotion getting to her. "I mean, you said before that you liked him, but..."

"I didn't feel _free_ to love him," Gilbert said, again nuzzling her. "It felt as if loving him was a betrayal to _you_. He made you so unhappy, and if I loved him, I felt I was choosing him over you. And I couldn't do that."

"Well, you don't have to choose," Anne said, emotional. "You can have us both. ...If you want us."

Gilbert, feeling Walter's drool pool on his shoulder, said, "I do. I want you both."

And just as Anne and Walter had been wrapped in a hug the previous night with Matthew and Marilla, at this moment, today, in the kitchen, they were wrapped in one with Gilbert.

The three of them clung to each other.

Yesterday's hug had been about a family of _now_.

This hug was about a family of the future.


	102. Marilla Cannot Be Alone Ever

This is a very short chapter, sorry, but it is just to set us up for a chapter that someone collabed with me (!)

and then I have some chapters ready to post shortly after that one- Miss Stacy comes back, Gilbert is over, something good happens, etc. _I have a lot to post coming up!_

* * *

Anne thought she would enjoy sleeping in her own room- she'd been craving her own space for so long- but that first night she was alone in her bed, she could not sleep. She turned this way and that, and finally sat up.

When Marilla heard Walter's cry, she sleepily rolled over in bed and opened her eyes- to find that Anne was about four inches from her face.

She gasped.

Anne did not move. She was snoring lightly, curled up about as close to Marilla's side as she could get.

Marilla sighed and pushed herself away from Anne's face.

She shook her head, and hoisted herself up out of her bed to make her way to Walter's cradle.

_I suppose it's just as well I have to get up, _she thought_, it's seldom these days that I go through the night without having to make use of my chamber pot._

Once Walter was settled again- much, much later- Marilla finally got back into bed, and sunk into the mattress, grateful to have returned.

Until Anne let out a strange sort of snorting noise and threw her arm out, landing with a thump across Marilla's chest.

Marilla moved her arm, and then moved herself.

She turned away from her little red headed disturbance, and attempted to go to sleep again, but she thought seriously about going to sleep in Anne's empty bed.

* * *

Marilla was tired in the morning, but she was also happy.

Anne did not have to be cajoled into taking care of Walter. She just _did _it.

In fact, she would not put him down.

Marilla stopped her from taking Walter out to the privy.

"But Marilla, I can't _leave _him because he might think I'm not coming _back_," Anne tried to explain.

"Where were you going to _put _him?" Marilla wanted to know.

"Well...I hadn't thought about that part," Anne admitted.

"There isn't anywhere _to _put him, except the floor of the privy, and you are not doing that, so leave him be," Marilla said firmly. "Besides, he doesn't need to watch you going to the privy."

"Then I can't _go_," Anne insisted. "I can't _leave _him."

Marilla reached out and took him from her. "I will hold him, you go."

Anne was very slow about leaving. "Can you stand right here at the door so he can see me walking to and from? That way he'll know I'm not far away, and he'll know the minute I'm coming back."

"All right, all right," Marilla said.

As soon as Anne returned, she reached out for Walter.

"Wash your hands, please," Marilla reminded. Anne scrubbed as fast as she could, her eyes still glued to her baby.

"I'm right here," she murmured comfortingly as soon as she was done. "_I_ wouldn't leave you. Not _really_. You knew I was coming _back_, didn't you?"

Marilla restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She was of course grateful for Anne's turnaround, but she knew that she would never, ever be far from dramatics when it came to life with her dear girl.

* * *

That night, Marilla asked, "What happened to sleeping in your own room?"

"I don't know, Marilla, but I just couldn't sleep in there! It's very difficult to sleep alone after getting used to having a body beside you."

Marilla agreed.

"I also didn't know how to sleep without _Walter _there," Anne admitted. "Even though you've been the one up with him at night, it just...it just didn't feel right not to be _near _him."

Marilla told her, "You needn't get up with him at night- Dr. Carter's orders- but it does my heart good to hear that you want to be near him! All right, you may sleep in here again."

"Oh, _good_," Anne cried, throwing herself at Marilla, nearly causing the woman to fall backward onto the bed.

"Now, now, calm yourself," Marilla said, shaking her head. "Let's get to bed, then."


	103. In The Middle of the Night (Oz Diva!)

_**There is a writer on here who is basically my writing ideal, her name is Oz Diva and I have loved her stories for a long time. Imagine what a "fan girl" moment I had when she reached out to me with an idea for a collab. She had imagined this lovely scene of Marilla and the baby, and Matthew talking to his daughter, and when I read it I felt absolutely blessed by her. Everything she touches glows with warmth. Oz Diva you are my inspiration and I am honored you even noticed my story, let alone wanted to be a part of it. Thank you Oz Diva, you beautiful soul. : )**_

Here is her work:

* * *

_**Many thanks to Awaes for letting me include a chapter in her wonderful story. We've been talking and I just got this image in my head and she was kind enough to let me join in the fun, just this once.**_

Dim candlelight lit the darkened kitchen in the wee sma's one cool evening a couple of weeks later. The hem of Marilla's dressing gown dipped in and out of the small circle of light as she comforted wee Walter. The bairn was happy so long as she walked; enjoying her swaying movement, the way she rubbed his back and the lullaby she quietly sang, "twinkle, twinkle little star…" She never thought she was much good at singing, but little Walter never complained.

Unless she paused for even a single moment.

Then he would stir; his little face breaking into a threatening crumpled crimson as he geared up to squall. "Sh sh sh," she comforted him before recommencing her work. The tip of her little finger pacified him and she marvelled at the strength of his suck. His cries ceased immediately as she momentarily mollified him.

It was interesting she mused as she walked around the kitchen cradling him in one arm waiting for the water to warm, how adept you could get at household tasks one handed. Still, she remembered as she pulled her finger out, you did need at least one to make up a bottle. Naturally the movement caused Walter to start screeching again his face distraught with abject hunger. "Shush, shush, shush," she murmured, "not long now Mr. Fussy." He paused briefly at her comforting tone.

Smiling she deftly stirred the warm water into the bottle and affixed the teat, giving the whole bottle a quick shake. Testing it against the back of her hand she got settled in the chair. Peace descended as soon as the bottle was safely in his mouth, a rim of pearly milk around his lips. The only sounds were the gentle sound of contented swallowing and the crickets chirping outside. This was a lovely time, just the two them. The baby nestled in her arm in the warm kitchen.

Marilla smiled down at him; he was a _beautiful_ baby. While Anne was still warming to this snuggly little creature, Marilla knew she had yet to fall in love with him for his looks. But with his long eyelashes, fine wisps of blonde hair, sweet baby smell and chubby cheeks he was very bonny indeed.

Despite being fed and changed, he still took a while to settle. Marilla dredged up a song from her limited stock of lullabies.

"_Rock-a-bye baby  
in the tree top.  
When the wind blows  
the cradle will rock.  
When the bough breaks,  
the cradle will fall.  
Down will come Baby,  
Cradle and all."_

It occurred to her as the last notes died away that while the tune may be soothing the words were anything but; cradles falling with babies within are hardly comforting images. She decided not to sing that one again. Never mind, she'd find something else in one of the books she'd ordered.

Night after night she tried to get him to sleep just that little bit longer, but it was no use, he'd be up fussing twice at least. Rachel warned her it was perfectly normal, and she supposed it was. But it was no small thing to have your sleep interrupted every night at her advanced age. The doctor asked her to take over the duties to help Anne through her melancholia. She had readily agreed at the time, anything to help her darling Anne; but oh, it was taking its toll. Yawning widely, Marilla settled down in the kitchen chair with Walter on her shoulder. Rubbing his back in concentric circles to bring up the wind she barely felt her eyes close.

Matthew's internal alarm clock woke him every morning. The cows could not wait, and he never liked to make them in any case. This morning he was surprised to see a small shimmering circle of light emanating from the kitchen as the first rays of the purple dawn snuck in through the window. He rushed out afraid something was on fire and was relieved to find it was only a barely lit candle guttering in the melted wax. Marilla was sound asleep in the kitchen chair with the baby safe in her arms using her shoulder draped plait as a pillow. He goggled at the sight, wondering that she had not dropped Walter in her deep slumber.

Gently he plucked the baby from her arms and as she stirred led her back to his warm bed, her stockinged feet making barely a sound over the floorboards. Marilla was too groggy to make much of a fuss as he pulled back his covers and gently encouraged her in. She was sound asleep again as one-handed he laid the blankets back before he tip-toed out.

Matthew had cared for many baby animals over his long farming career, lambs, piglets, calves, even the occasional foal, but never anything as slight or as precious as this wee boy. He cradled Walter gently in his large hands, continually astonished that anything so small could create so much fuss. Walter moaned in his sleep but was otherwise still, his breathing slow and steady. His mouth twitched momentarily; Matthew tensed but when Walter relaxed again so did his grandfather.

A red spray of hair spread out on the pillow like a ray of golden sunshine where Anne was curled up. Gently Matthew pulled back the blanket and tucked Walter in his little bed by the side of Marilla's larger bed. Anne stirred at the motion, she opened her big eyes and asked, "where's Marilla?"

"In my bed, Anne. I found them both fast asleep at the kitchen table."

Tears welled in Anne's eyes as she said, "it's all my fault."

Well now I don't reckon fault comes into it," Matthew gently replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You are our daughter; we are a family. We will always take care of you. Right now, it's a great deal of work for Marilla, but it won't always be that way. She doesn't want you to feel guilty, it is her honour see. She loves you and she loves this little boy here," he stroked Walter's face tenderly with his work-worn index finger ingrained dirt edging the nail, then lifted a stray lock of hair from Anne's face. "So, no talk of guilt, eh. It's what families do. Remember back when, when I first found out about ... this um situation," he cleared his throat. "Do you recall what I said then?"

Anne nodded hesitantly, her big eyes blinking up at him thinking this was perhaps his longest speech ever.

"I said a family isn't much of a family if they only have good times. Sometimes they have bad times and it's how they pull together when the bad times come that makes them a family. I'm not saying mind you that this is a bad time, not at all. You and little Walter make us so very happy. Still, I think we'll give Marilla a lie in today, don't you agree?"

Anne nodded, reaching out one arm from under the warm covers to hug him, "I love you, Matthew."

"I love you too Anne, but I must go. I reckon I can hear the cows complaining from here."

"Uh Matthew, before you go, could you bring Walter's bed to my side? I want to be closer to him." Matthew looked at her tenderly and did as she asked before he rushed out to the barn.

Anne watched him leave wondering if she should join him before a snuffling sound from her son reminded her where her responsibilities lay.

Marilla stirred woozily, then woke with a start. Sitting up she looked around the room realizing with a shock that it was not her own. Why was she in Matthew's room? Her blood ran cold.

Walter! Where was Walter?

"Oh, my heavens!" She pulled the covers back and found she still had her dressing gown on. What had happened in the night?

Heart thudding, Marilla raced back into her own room. At the sight of Walter asleep in his bed on Anne's side with her hand dangling over his form she sent up a prayer, "sweet merciful Jesus."

They were safely together; all was right with her world.

It was only when she came closer that she felt her heart warm at the sight of Anne holding Walter's little hand in her own even as she slept.

* * *

_Thank you, Oz Diva. You are so lovely. -AWAEStory_


	104. A Bright New Day

When Marilla woke up- very late that morning- she awoke to the aroma of pancakes.

"What on earth?" she wondered aloud as she washed and dressed.

She came into the kitchen and saw Anne and Gilbert at the kitchen stove. They turned to look at her as she came in. Anne had Walter on her arm and flour on her cheeks. Gilbert was holding a spatula and the handle of a pan.

"Good morning," they both chorused to her.

Marilla was glad she had gotten dressed rather than coming out in her robe and slippers.

"Good morning, Gilbert. When did you get here?" she asked, puzzled.

"About an hour ago, ma'am," he said. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

Marilla looked at the clock. She was flabbergasted to see that it was half past eleven.

"My goodness," she said in disbelief. "Oh, I slept the day away!"

Anne laughed. "Marilla, may we present to you: Our Breakfast _Feast_."

Anne set a plate on the table and Gilbert brought the pancakes over. As he put them on her plate, Anne pulled out the chair for Marilla to sit down.

"Why, thank you," she said, pleased but out of her element as she was not used to being waited on.

Gilbert poured Marilla's drink and Anne got the powdered sugar. "Now, Marilla," she said seriously. "I know you'll say it's not sensible to have something so much like a dessert in the morning, but, very soon it won't be morning anymore. By the time you digest, it'll be afternoon, and it's perfectly acceptable to have a little sweet in the afternoon." She grinned.

Anne, without asking, began sprinkling powdered sugar across Marilla's plate.

"This is how Gilbert made me pancakes," she told her. "And it was..._heavenly_. Like a drift of snow, scattered from an angel's _wings._"

Gilbert smiled quietly, happier than he'd been in a long time. Just to be here- in this house, full and noisy- with Anne bubbly and talkative, and the feelings of a family all around him...he never wanted to leave. Gilbert took the baby from Anne so she could twist the lid back onto the sugar cannister. Walter, ever happy to be taken by Gilbert, began to babble loudly.

"Aren't you two going to join me?" Marilla asked.

"We ate already," Anne told her. "We fed Matthew and Jerry, too. _Hours _ago! They'll be in for lunch, soon, and we're going to get _that _ready too. We were just going to clean up until I thought maybe the smell of pancakes would wander into your room and tempt you to cognizance."

"_Cognizance_, eh?" Marilla asked.

"It's a word in Gilbert's new school book," Anne said. "For the next grade. Isn't a most delicious sound?"

She smiled at Gilbert.

Marilla ate her pancakes, though she found them entirely too sweet. But with Anne happy and up doing things, she had no mind to discourage her.

As she finished eating, she asked, "Do you two have any plans for this fine Saturday?"

"Jane is going to come over," Anne said. "If that's all right, I mean. Gilbert told her I brought Walter back home and she's dying in _agony_ to see him."

"That will be nice, then," Marilla said. "Do you know when she's coming?"

"Gilbert's going to go get her," Anne explained. "Because she had said she'd be free to get away during the afternoon, and he wants to go to the post office to check on something, so he said he'd go round on his way back and get her."

"I'll get the kitchen cleaned first and then I'll head out," Gilbert said, standing up. He handed Walter back to Anne.

"Oh, no, Gilbert," Marilla said, standing up. "You've done enough work! Thank you for your thoughtfulness with the pancakes. Anne and I can get the kitchen tidied up."

"Well..." Gilbert looked back and forth.

"Please go," Anne agreed. "Or Jane might decide to walk over on her own, and you'll have made the trip for nothing. I don't think she can wait."

"All right," Gilbert said, leaning in to touch Walter's cheek as a goodbye.

He left quickly, after getting his hat and coat.

When he was gone, Anne sat down at the table again with a plop. She thoughtlessly rubbed Walter's little blonde head as she said hesitantly, "Marilla...I wanted to tell you...I'm sorry about last night. I didn't want you to fall asleep in the kitchen."

"I'm just glad I didn't drop the baby!" Marilla said. "Though how I didn't, I'll never know."

Anne nodded, swallowing. "Well, I'm _sorry_."

"It's only natural things stay mixed up for a while, Anne. We're still in the early days of Walter's life. But we are helping each other, aren't we? I have him through the night, and you have him during the day."

"But it isn't fair that you have to do _anything," _Anne said mournfully. "For me _or _for him!"

"Anne, now listen," Marilla said seriously. "You didn't do anything to have this baby- you weren't off being unchaste with some boy. If you _had_, I imagine we'd all be far less sympathetic! And we'd expect you to handle more of the responsibilities for yourself because those were the _consequences _of the _choices _you made. But you didn't do anything at all- this was just brought upon you, and unfairly at that. Everyone _wants _to help you because we feel so much for you, going through this and being so tired and distraught. So you mustn't feel guilty about being helped."

"But I need too _much _help...Marilla, _you_ never did anything wrong to bring this on _either_, but here you are having to work so hard and be so tired, too!"

"The fact is, having a new baby is _hard_. That's just the way it _is_. Everyone needs _some _help. Emily had help. Her mother-in-law stayed in their home for _weeks_, remember? And then after her mother-in-law went home, she had you to come over and babysit for her a couple of afternoons a week."

"Yes," Anne acknowledged.

"And Emily is grown up, and married. You aren't grown up and you aren't married. You need your parents to be there to help you."

"I do," Anne agreed. "I wish I didn't though, because...oh, Marilla, _I never wanted to make your lives harder!"_

Marilla reached across the table and took her hand. After a moment, she said gently, "Let's not dwell on it anymore. Soon Walter will start sleeping through the night, and then neither of us will feel this tired, and you won't feel so hopeless, either. All right?"

"All right," Anne whispered.

"No more feeling sorry, now!" Marilla said firmly. "That's the _end_ of _that!_ ...Let's you and I get this kitchen cleaned up so that you can enjoy your friends when they get here!"

When Gilbert returned from the post office, he had two lovely things in his buggy. Jane was one of them. She threw her arms around Anne and laughed.

Anne reciprocated, laughing too.

When they parted, Anne grabbed Jane's hand and led her into the house.

"You seem better," Jane said happily.

Anne- who had to pull away from Jane suddenly because her hair smelled too much like the fall air- nodded, swallowing to keep herself in the present. "I am- mostly," she said. "Do you want to see the baby?"

Jane's eyes lit up. "I've missed him _so _much, Anne!"

She came further into the house and crooned as Anne pulled him out of his basket. Jane began to ask if she could hold Walter, but as had happened before, the words weren't even out of her mouth before she'd scooped him up and held him close.

Anne stood watching Jane with her baby. She no longer felt annoyance in Jane's fussing over the baby. She rather liked it.

When Jane finally pulled her eyes from Walter, Anne got her friend back and they chatted about what Miss Stacy was doing in school.

"She's _wonderful_, Anne," Jane admitted. "I wasn't sure I should talk about her, because I knew you'd _like _her and I didn't want to make you sad about not going to school! But since Gilbert told me that Miss Stacy comes to see you, then I guess I don't have to keep her a secret anymore, do I? Wait until you see what she does for _science _class!"

"What?" Anne asked.

The dramatic tone of Anne's voice in that question made Jane giggle.

"What?" Anne repeated.

"Well, we don't sit in the room with our textbooks," Jane said. "She takes us outside and we do real things. Of course, soon it'll be too cold for that- it already is, really- but I'm sure she'll have equally interesting things to do all winter. Did you know she has a microscope? She says when it snows we're going to look at snowflakes under it. ...Anyway, before it got so cold, we went to the stream and we looked for fossils. Miss Stacy has a book that tells what kind they are."

"Fossils?" Anne asked, her mouth dropping open. "_I_ found a fossil at the stream last year! I have it upstairs on my dresser! I _knew _it was a fossil, but I didn't have any way of knowing what kind it might be."

"Ask her to bring her book when she comes," Jane encouraged. "I bet it's in there. There are ever so many, from all kinds of things."

Gilbert got his buggy into the Cuthbert's barn- it was getting too windy out for his horse, he felt- and when he returned to the house, Anne and Jane wanted to know what was in his package from the post office.

"It's sort of a present," he said, handing it to Anne with a hint of a smile.

"For me?" Anne asked, touched.

"No, _not _for _you_," Gilbert said, laughing a bit. "But you can share it; it's for Walter."

"Oh, Gilbert, you shouldn't have bought him anything," Anne said as she pulled the strings loose and unwrapped the brown paper package.

"It's a bear!" Anne exclaimed, pulling the fuzzy animal from the wrapping.

Anne dropped it and hugged Gilbert, squeezing him tight.

Jane picked up the bear. It was black and had a rubber tip nose, and was on all fours. "It looks just like a bear," she commented.

"I thought he better have something else to chew on or that rabbit's going to have a shortened lifespan," Gilbert said with a smile. "Can't let his rabbit go bad, not since it's such an heirloom."

"Oh, does he still like my rabbit, Anne?" Jane asked, pleased.

Anne nodded. "Yes, he always wants it," she said.

"He always wants to_ eat_ it, you mean," Gilbert said with a laugh.

Jane put the bear in front of Walter.

"Here's a bear, Walter," she said. She began walking the bear back and forth in front of him. His eyes went back and forth as he watched her.

Suddenly he squealed and kicked his feet, laughing.

Jane handed him the bear, which he promptly put in his mouth.

"Thank you, Gilbert," Anne murmured. Their eyes locked to each other's a moment, and Jane and the baby blurred to the background. Anne squeezed his hand. "You know, you've done me a favor, too- I promised him I'd show him what a bear looks like."

"I know, that's why I got it," Gilbert said quietly.

Anne stared at him. "You mean you _remembered _that?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, as if it was nothing. "Back before he was born...you told him you'd show him what a bear looked like, once he got here. ...He's here now, and Avonlea seems to be fresh out of bears, so..."

Jane grinned when she looked up and saw Anne and Gilbert.

"Should I leave you two alone?" she asked, teasing.

Suddenly Gilbert looked away, a laugh in his eyes, and Anne blushed.

"Anyway," Anne said loudly. "It's a very thoughtful gift."

They all watched Walter with the bear for a moment.

"Does this mean you love him now?" Jane asked Anne, "Because you brought him back? And you're keeping him _for sure?_"

"I don't know," Anne answered slowly, honestly. "I mean- no- I'm definitely _keeping _him! Without a doubt! But...do I _love _him...? I know I _ought _to say yes. It sounds _dreadful _if I _don't_. But...I just don't _know_."

Anne stared at Walter a moment. Jane and Gilbert glanced at each other, worried.

Anne was thinking. "The thing is..." she began. "The thing is, before, I didn't love him and I didn't even _want _to love him! But _now_, I think...I think I _could _love him. ...I know that I want to _try_."

Gilbert smiled. "I think if you _want_ to try, then you'll be able to."

"And do you _see _now, Anne, why everyone says he's so _cute!?_" Jane asked with a laugh.

"No," Anne said honestly. "I don't. I don't see it."

"Oh," Jane said, disappointed.

"You can love him _without _thinking he's cute," Gilbert reassured her, echoing what he'd told Miss Stacy those weeks ago. "You can love all the _other _things about him. There are a million things about him to love. I'm always telling you looks don't matter."

Anne sighed. "It does sound awful, though, for me to say it."

Jane looked at Gilbert. Then she said, as if it didn't matter, "Well, Anne, maybe you're right. Now that I think of it, he isn't really _that _cute. When you look at him closer, you see it. I _mean..._" Jane paused, trying to think of something she could say about the baby. "Oh, his eyes are shaped funny, aren't they? They're sort of like _triangles_, and eyes really _ought _to be round, don't you think? And you can already tell he's going to-"

Anne was terribly offended and had no plans to wait to hear what else Jane thought about him. She scooped Walter up, ready to storm out of the room at that very moment. She kept her hand over his head, protective. "How _dare _you!" she interrupted Jane. "Walter is _not _funny looking! There is nothing wrong with him! He's better looking than every other baby there's ever _been_, and-"

"_Anne_," Gilbert said, a smile coming. He reached out, pulling Anne close, rubbing her back. "Anne, she's teasing you."

_Harrumph,_ went Anne, and she sat back, loosening her grip on her baby.

Jane and Gilbert laughed.

Anne looked at Walter, wondering if she could see him any differently.

She couldn't.

"Well," she said after a moment, "I can't help it if _I _don't think he's cute...but I'm ready to fight anyone _else_ who thinks he isn't!"


	105. As Time Goes On

Anne decided she could do more than she had done.

In the mornings, Marilla made breakfast, but Anne announced that she intended to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen herself from now on, and she shooed Marilla away.

Anne also told Marilla that she would prepare everyone's lunches and clean up afterward, to allow for Marilla to take an afternoon nap.

Marilla at first protested, but Anne pleaded, "Oh, don't spoil it for me!"

So Marilla followed Anne's instructions to make herself comfortable in the parlor, and after a few short minutes of reading, she fell into a doze and had a nice long afternoon nap.

She awoke to the smell of dinner being prepared.

When she came into the kitchen, Anne was smiling. "Marilla, I have news that will _astound_ you. I have started dinner and I haven't burned a single thing! I might make myself useful after all."

Marilla smiled. "I can't complain. I had a nice long shut-eye. Thank you, dear."

Anne was happy.

Cooking and dishes weren't impossible with the baby, though they were hard, as Walter didn't always want to be set down, but he couldn't be held while she was working. The blessing of it was that the baby was not yet mobile, so Anne could put him in one place and not have to worry about him wandering. She sometimes put him on a blanket on the floor next to her feet, though she often set him directly on the kitchen counter, and gave him his rabbit. He happily chewed away at its ears or tail while Anne worked. Eventually Walter would tire of his rabbit and would begin to fuss, and Anne had to think of new ideas.

One day she got the button string Marilla had prompted her to start so long ago, and she had the idea to tie it to a kitchen cabinet handle. Walter stared up at the buttons dangling over his head, and spent a long time swatting at them. Anne laughed at this.

But sometimes toys Anne would invent for him did not seem to be enough, and the baby was fussy no matter what she gave him.

That was when she decided to sing to him.

She went through every song she had learned at church. When she had finished all the church songs she knew, she began telling Walter stories.

Walter did not understand what his mama was saying, but he was enraptured by her voice, which he had been deprived of for so long, and he sat watching her face intently while her voice went up and down, melodic and impassioned, as she told him tales of the daring deeds that knights carried out for the honor of their fair maidens- sometimes switching it up so that the fair maidens saved the knights instead.

When that was over, she was quiet for a while, thinking, and then she began a story about an elf who lived underneath their chicken coop. Walter liked that story, not because he knew what it was about, but because it went on and on and on, new bits added every day, and it never seemed to end. Every time the story seemed to wind to a close, she suddenly thought of a new thing for the funny elf to do, and then she began talking again. He laughed and laughed when her voice picked up speed. He loved nothing more than to hear his mama.

Marilla enjoyed hearing Anne prattle on in the kitchen as she worked with the baby, too.

_Well, it gives her someone else to talk to, anyway,_ she thought with amusement.

* * *

At some point- once Marilla no longer had to stay up with the baby at night- then Anne would not feel such a pressing need to take care of everything all day for Marilla.

And Marilla wouldn't mind it coming to an end. She couldn't help worrying about Anne making trouble in her kitchen.

Besides, she'd like to have a bit more variety in their meals. Anne only knew how to make a few simple dishes.

The naps, however, were another story. She would definitely miss those.

* * *

Anne gave her fossil to Gilbert to take to school so that he could ask Miss Stacy what kind it was.

When he returned, he had the book with him. "She thought you'd enjoy reading it for yourself," he told her with a smile. "And she wants to know when you'd like her to start coming over again."

Anne hesitated. "Right now," she admitted. "...But wait. I'll wait until we get done with the next couple weeks... Because I want to help Marilla right now, and I don't have time to do the housekeeping _and _have Miss Stacy over, too."

"All right," Gilbert agreed, disappointed. He wanted Anne to have Miss Stacy back.

But then he decided it was all right that there would be a bit of time before Miss Stacy saw Anne again. He needed to figure out whether he ought to tell Anne that Miss Stacy knew about her past.

* * *

When Anne _did_ have a bit of spare time, she decided to create a real book about the elf who lived under their chicken coop.

"Walter likes that story a lot," she told Matthew, who smiled at this. "And I'm afraid I won't remember it, so I better write it down for him."

Matthew was glad to see Anne writing again. He watched, smiling, as she used Marilla's scissors to cut pages and then made bows out of yarn to tie the pages together.

When he looked at the book later, he got a chuckle out of Anne's unsteady picture of a funny green elf peeking out from between two chickens.

* * *

Three weeks went by- Marilla had no inclination to stop the present way of things, since it was making such a change for the better in their household- and the very day that Walter turned four months old, he slept all the way through the night.

_Four months is early_, Marilla remembered. _If God's given us any reprieve, here it is!_

Of course Walter would not sleep through _every _night, but that one night was cause for celebration, and Marilla baked a cake.

The weather kept getting colder, promising to change, and Anne felt very hopeful about the coming winter.


	106. Devotion

"Marilla!" Anne cried out one afternoon in a panic.

Marilla rushed in. "What is it?"

"He sneezed," Anne said, pointing at the baby.

Marilla put her hand over her heart, breathing and looking at Anne as if she had been foolish for yelling out.

"Yes. They do that."

"He's never done it before," Anne said worriedly.

"He must have, you just weren't paying attention," Marilla said, turning to go back to the kitchen.

Anne was offended. "What do you mean I wasn't paying attention? I would _know_ if he _sneezed!_"

"No, Anne, you wouldn't- you were in a trance for a good three months! It's only now that you've taken an interest in him."

Anne's voice rose higher. "Taken an interest in him? I have _always_ taken an interest in him."

"All right," Marilla said, raising her eyebrows.

"I have!" Anne insisted.

"I'm not arguing with you," Marilla said, shaking her head to herself.

"Well, what are we going to _do?_" Anne asked desperately.

"About what?"

Anne pointed to the baby. "About him sneezing!"

Marilla tried not to laugh. "Anne," she began, but Anne cut her off-

"He might be sick! He might be _dying_. There are all _kinds_ of dreadful diseases he could have caught when we were on the train-"

"Anne, goodness, that was weeks ago now," Marilla said calmly.

"But who knows how long disease can _fester?_ All those strangers around us! ...And those _people_ I _took_ him to- the _Warrens_. What if _they_ weren't healthy? I don't know a _thing_ about them, Marilla! …We should have left him at home."

"But you were taking him _to_ them, dear. You couldn't have left him home, that was your reason for going."

Anne grabbed the baby up in her arms and held him. "You poor little thing, I may as well have rolled you around in the dirt. Now you're going to die and it's all because I tried to give you _away!"_ Anne began to cry.

Marilla felt like rolling her eyes, but refrained from doing so. "Anne," she said patiently. "He is not going to die from one little sneeze. Try to calm yourself."

But Anne was still crying.

"I tried to get _rid_ of him, and now I really _will_ be rid of him!" She cried and cried.

Marilla plucked Walter up out of Anne's arms and sat down on the sofa. She patted Anne's head, and Walter tried to, too, reaching out and grabbing Anne's braid in his fist.

Marilla spoke kindly. "I know you feel guilty about wanting to send him away. But you mustn't go on feeling that way. Let that go. It was the decision you thought was best at the time. And it had no repercussions- he doesn't know any different, he doesn't understand what you were doing, and he is _not_ getting sick because you left him."

Anne still cried. Marilla could do nothing, so she held Walter back out to Anne, who grabbed him and squeezed him to her. She sat on the floor holding him too tightly until _he_ began to cry, too.

Marilla sighed, "Anne, you must stop grabbing him up that way. It isn't good for him. You sit there and squeeze him to you as if he's a toy. You look as if you're hugging a _stuffed animal!"_

Anne finally pulled Walter away from her and looked him up and down. "Do you think I broke him? Maybe I squished him up on the inside. Maybe his lungs, and his little heart-"

"_Anne_," Marilla said. Anne's dramatics were a challenge already, adding in a little person of her own was just too much. Marilla felt a headache coming on.

Then Walter sneezed.

"There! Marilla, did you hear that? He did it again!"

"Anne, do you know what to do? Feel his head. Is he hot? If he isn't, then there's no fever. Now, you've taken care of infants before- all those twins- you _know_-"

"It's different when it's your own," Anne said defensively, squeezing Walter again- then suddenly stopping, worrying she had held him too tightly.

"He isn't even the _slightest _bit feverish, is he?"

Anne stared hard at the baby as if waiting to see whether he would spontaneously combust.

"I better get the doctor," she finally decided. "There could be something I don't see."

She stood up, ready to walk out at that moment, but then she hesitated. Sounding disappointed, she said quietly: "I can't walk to Dr. Carter with him."

"See, now you needn't go. You don't want to walk outdoors because it's _fall, _and the fall weather bothers you now. So stay-"

"No, that's _not_ why," Anne interrupted. "I'd walk all across this whole town- no matter how much it bothered me- through crispy, crunchy, revolting leaves, if he needed to get to the doctor!"

Marilla smiled, wondering if Anne realized what an enormous statement of devotion she had just made.

"But I can't, because he'll catch cold. Could you keep him here while _I_ go get the doctor?" Then she shook her head, frustrated. "Wait, no- that won't work, either, I can't be _apart_ from him, he'll _miss_ me and he won't understand why I left him…"

Marilla thought Walter's infancy was going to feel like a very long time.

"Why don't you go ask Matthew if he'll _drive_ you to Dr. Carter?" she responded calmly.

If the baby really might be sick, she wouldn't let Anne go back and forth working out her own arrangements. No, she'd pack the baby up and Anne with it and get them in the buggy quick as can be. But the baby was perfectly fine, and Marilla was not willing to indulge in Anne's histrionics.

Matthew was ready at a moment's notice when Anne came to him upset.

Matthew's face was lined with worry until Marilla gestured to him that Anne was being dramatic and there was nothing to be alarmed over.

"I should take him _with_ us," Anne said decidedly. "That way the doctor will see him _sooner_. …No, no, I shouldn't take him out. He might get cold! I better leave him at home. But, oh, what if he worries I'm not coming _back?"_

Matthew finally said, "You stay with him, and I'll get the doctor to come here."

"Thank you, Matthew," Anne gasped, leaning into him.

"What should I tell him?" Matthew asked her.

Anne exclaimed, "Tell him he has to come _right away_ because there's something terribly wrong with my baby!"

Matthew decided to ask Dr. Carter if he would like to come over for dinner. At least then there would have been some real purpose to his coming out to Green Gables.

* * *

"And you're sure nothing's wrong with the little one?" Dr. Carter asked as he climbed into the buggy.

Matthew's first thought was Anne. The '_little one_' meant _Anne_. ...It startled him to realize that _his_ little one, had her _own_ little one. He shook his head. "Marilla says it's nothing at all."

Dr. Carter smiled. "New mothers can be this way. It comes from love, remember, I always tell the rest of the family. I don't mind at all coming out to ease her fears, anyway. It'll do me good to see Walter again. He's a very sweet baby. And I see many, you know."

Matthew smiled.

Anne was waiting at the door. She impatiently shifted Walter from one arm to the other as they walked up to the house. She felt like rushing out to greet them, but did not want to bring Walter out into the chilly air.

"_Dr. Carter,_" Anne pleaded, practically in tears. "Can you _save_ him?!"

Dr. Carter smiled. "Let's see what's wrong with you, little fellow."

He opened his bag. He saw nothing wrong when he checked the baby's ears, nose, and throat.

Anne hovered until Marilla said, "Anne, give the doctor space to breath, please!"

"Will he _live?"_ Anne begged.

"I should say so," Dr. Carter said.

"But…"

"Yes?"

"He…"

"Hmm?"

"Well…he _sneezed_," Anne finished lamely.

"Oh, I assure you, he _will_ live. Despite the sneeze."

"But what if he has boogers," Anne began.

Marilla cut her off, flustered. "Anne! What coarse language! If you think such a thing, you ought to have said, _The baby is congested._" She was embarrassed.

Anne wasn't paying attention to Marilla's scolding of her manners. She was still looking desperately at the doctor. "But you only checked his nose and his ears and throat. What about everywhere else?" Anne worried.

"What are you troubled about?" Dr. Carter asked, trying to sound serious.

"I think I _broke _him. On the inside. From squeezing him too hard. Marilla says I pick him up and squeeze him like he's a doll I'm holding, which doesn't make a bit of sense because I wouldn't _know_, I've never _had_ a doll to hold in my whole life, and I-"

"Oh, oh, yes, I see," Dr. Carter nodded, trying not to laugh. "Well, I better listen to his heart and lungs, then. Just in case they've stopped."

When he said those last words, Marilla made a strange noise that Anne thought sounded like she was trying to keep from coughing, but she turned away before Anne could see her face.

"No, they haven't stopped," Dr. Carter told her, listening. "He sounds like he's breathing all right. My, yes- and he's got a good strong heart, pumping away."

"He does have the most _dear _little heart, doesn't he? I bet his is better than _other_ babies. And his lungs are better, too."

"If one's parent has anything to do with it, he has a good strong set of lungs because he'll need them for talking a mile a minute," Marilla said with a smile.

"He is one of the healthiest babies I have seen to date," Dr. Carter assured her, smiling. "So you needn't worry about him a bit."

* * *

"Do you have to leave? Can't you stay longer?" Anne begged after dinner was over.

"Anne, let Dr. Carter start off, now; it's already dark out, don't trouble him-"

"But what if he sneezes_ again?"_


	107. Back

Anne had felt for a long time that God had stopped listening to her prayers, but when Walter began sleeping all the way through the night at only four months- and became a very good sleeper, at that- Anne felt that perhaps God was deciding to warm up to her again.

With Walter sleeping through the night, the whole house felt different.

Marilla was more rested, no longer being woken up every few hours. So she told Anne that things could go back to normal, now- _she _would be back at the helm of the housework, and Anne would be there to lend her a hand. No longer would Anne be handling the majority of the cooking and cleaning, since Marilla didn't need to be up all night.

Anne was happy things could return to how they used to be, because it meant she would once again have time for Miss Stacy.

"I'll ask her tomorrow," Gilbert smiled. "Oh, by the way, I have another letter from Diana."

Anne practically snatched it out of his hands. He laughed, and Anne blushed. "Sorry, that was...I'm glad Marilla wasn't in here. Oh, _Diana- _my darling, dear Diana- how I have longed for you these past weeks!"

She tore the letter open. "I wish Diana's mother would let her visit _by herself._"

"She's let you come over by yourself, hasn't she?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, and that's no better," Anne told him. "She won't let us go up to Diana's room to talk. We have to sit in the parlor or the kitchen...no doubt so she can listen to every word!"

"Seems silly," Gilbert said.

"I suppose she thinks I might tell Diana where babies come from," Anne commented.

This, for some reason, made both of them unexpectedly laugh- the absurdity of Diana _not_ knowing how babies arrived, even after all this time, and seeing Anne expecting.

"Diana is really more of a pen-pal than a bosom friend, these days," Anne said sadly. "But I am optimistic. Eventually things will be different. Her mother will stop listening in and then we won't have to say everything we _really _want to say in our _letters_. And you won't have to sneak them back and forth at school for us. And Diana won't have to burn them."

Anne looked over her letter from Diana. "Oh, she loves Miss Stacy, too! _Everyone _does, don't they?" This made Anne feel left out.

Gilbert still did not know whether he ought to tell Anne that he'd confided in Miss Stacy regarding her situation. He was debating this in his mind when he was brought out of his thoughts by Anne suddenly saying-

"I can't wait to see Miss Stacy again. I'm glad Walter's better now."

"Better?" Gilbert asked quickly, alarmed. "Something was wrong with him?"

Anne sighed.

Gilbert took her hand in his own. "Anne, what is it? What happened?"

Gilbert's serious face, lined with worry, changed to confusion and then smoothed to neutrality as Anne answered him.

She took a deep breath, and- looking very grave- she explained, "He _sneezed._"

"He...sneezed?"

He stared at her.

Anne stared back.

"Was that all?" Gilbert asked, very relieved. Gilbert couldn't help smiling, but when Anne saw the corner of his mouth turn up, she got huffy.

"No, that's _not _all" she told him. "Something _else _happened _after _he sneezed!"

"What happened after he sneezed?" Gilbert asked.

"...He sneezed _again_," Anne explained importantly.

Gilbert pulled her in for a hug- the sole purpose of the hug being so Anne could not look at his face- and said, feigning seriousness, "I'm relieved he made it through, and with flying colors."

"I know," Anne said, leaning into his hug. "It was touch-and-go for a while."

"I'm sure it was," Gilbert murmured in her ear.

* * *

The next morning Anne said to Marilla: "It seems to me that maybe God and I are back on speaking terms."

"Back on _speaking terms?_ Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Speaking," Anne said. "We'll be able to talk to each other again now."

"Haven't you been praying all along?" Marilla asked sharply.

"Oh, I _have_," Anne told her earnestly. "Only it didn't seem there was much _point _to it! After all, what's the purpose of praying if God isn't listening?"

Marilla thought her child came dangerously close to blasphemy. "He is _always _listening. But that doesn't mean we get what we want. God's plans may be different from what we…"

Marilla trailed off, distracted by her thoughts. She held firm to her belief that there was indeed a divine purpose for everything- even if she couldn't see it. But she herself had struggled with understanding God's plan for their lives. While she wouldn't say such a thing aloud, her prayers had often wandered to questions she asked of God that she did not feel she'd been given adequate answers to.

Marilla returned to earth to find that Anne had launched a monologue about how the trials of life must develop one's character.

But Marilla could tell that Anne was only rambling on in an attempt to convince herself of this.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Anne," she interrupted finally. "Because I think it's high time we went back to church."

Anne's heart dropped to her feet.

"Now that Walter's sleeping through the night, we can be in more of a regular routine again, and get things back to normal."

Anne was still staring at her with her mouth open.

"It'll be good for you, too- it isn't healthful for you to be cooped up in the house so," she said briskly.

Finally Anne spoke. "Marilla, I can never, _ever _return. How could you _expect _me to? How could you _possibly?_ If I go to church now, why...I would just _die_. I would!"

"But he's four months old now. You've had a good long lying-in time, and time to adjust. Most mothers return to church after three months or so."

"_I'm_ not most mothers!" Anne said hotly. "I don't _want_ to go, Marilla! Please don't make me! It will be..._it will be my ruin_. My _downfall_. My most _agonizingly,_ desperately-"

Marilla would not hear this. She interrupted, "I won't bring up a child not going to church." Then, after a moment, she said, "And neither will you."

"But everyone knows about what _happened_, Marilla! Everyone _knows _and they'll be _horrible _to me! They _will_. How could you _put _me through that? If you have even one little bone in your body that _sympathizes-_"

Marilla cut her off. "Now let's not have any dramatics. You make things sound much worse than they are! _Yes_, everyone knows- and that's in _your _favor, Anne! People know _exactly _why Billy was sent away, and it's _him _people don't trust anymore, not _you_. No one is going to be unkind to you. _Matthew's _been going to church, and no one's said anything unkind about you to _him_. And _Gilbert _still goes. _He's _gone to church all alone for a _long _time, you know. ...At least now he sits with Matthew. If anyone was talking about you at church, they'd have said something."

Anne looked at Walter. "Well...if you want him to go, couldn't _you _take him, then? ...I could live with him going, I could, if _only _you wouldn't make _me _go."

"And how could I tell him he ought to go to church, when his own mother doesn't go? No, Anne, you _must _go and that's that. You're both my own, and I won't bring you up as _heathens! _Walter's fortunate enough to go to church from the very first. You, however, have nearly a lifetime to make up for. You've missed enough as it is, and we are going back, and that's _final_."


	108. After Church

On Sunday morning Anne delayed going to church as long as possible.

She kept changing Walter's clothes, trying to figure out which was his least attractive outfit, and finally decided that it didn't matter what he wore because she simply would not remove him from his basket. But then she realized that if he _cried_, she'd _have _to get him out and hold him in order to stop the crying, and if she didn't pick him up and hold him, he'd only attract _more _attention. She finally settled on a drab yellow colored dress, the plainest thing he owned. She could not take him out in bright colors and ruffly things, because he'd only be more noticeable. When she came to the buggy with him, Marilla glanced in at him and asked sharply, "Why is he wearing _two _bonnets at the same time?"

"Uh," Anne mumbled, "He, uh...he wanted both of them."

Marilla waited.

"It's to help hide his face," Anne finally explained. "So no one can look at him."

"Well, he looks ridiculous. Take one of them off, and let's go," Marilla directed.

Anne finally untied one of the bonnets.

She heaved a sigh as she hoisted him into the buggy.

"Let's go face our doom, Walter."

"Oh, Anne, hold your tongue! Avoiding doom is _why_ you go to church!"

* * *

When they pulled up in front of the church, Anne glanced anxiously around to see if anyone was looking at them.

"What if the Andrews are here?" she asked.

Marilla brushed that off. "What of it? They can go to church-"

"They _ought _to go to church," Matthew interrupted under his breath.

Marilla gave him a sharp look. "Them being here has no bearing on anything. _You _don't need to feel awkward. If anything, _they _should feel awkward!"

"But I have- I have _him_," Anne moaned miserably, lifting Walter's basket out of the buggy. "It's _embarrassing_."

"You should be proud of your baby, Anne. He's yours and no one else's. You can't go through all of life being embarrassed of him!"

"I know…" Anne whined.

Marilla said, more sympathetically- "You don't have to bring him _in_. You can leave him in the nursery. A lot of mothers do that- so he won't disturb the service."

Anne thought about this, but then-

"What if they don't treat him nicely?" she burst out passionately.

Marilla was surprised. "Whyever wouldn't they?"

Anne said, "Because of who _I_ am!"

Marilla softened. "Oh, Anne. The lady who takes care of the babies in the nursery during the services is _very_ kind. You met her at the church picnic, remember? She was nice to you, wasn't she?"

Anne just sat there, looking down. "I suppose…"

Marilla prompted, "She's the lady who brought you the cradle roll certificate and the bouquet of flowers. Now, she wouldn't have done that if she didn't feel kindly toward you! She would never treat your baby unfairly."

Anne nodded.

"Come now, let's go in," Marilla directed. "...Would you like _me _to carry his basket? You don't _have _to, really- _if _that will help you?"

Anne shook her head without a word. She was embarrassed to walk in holding a baby, but she hoped that if she held the basket between them all, maybe he wouldn't be as noticed.

Matthew put his arm around Anne.

The walk from the buggy to the church felt very, very long. The organ music was just starting as they entered.

Marilla had a suggestion: "Why don't we stop in the nursery first, before we even go into the sanctuary, and you can leave him there? Then you won't have to think about it anymore."

"All right," Anne said, thinking that walking into the church with the baby was bad enough, but walking into the sanctuary with him would be even worse.

But when she got to the nursery, she could not leave him.

"Hello, Anne," the nursery attendant greeted her warmly at the door. She set down a baby so she could come greet them and take Walter. "I'm so glad you're feeling well enough to come back to church."

Anne smiled, but Walter felt heavy in her arms, and when she handed him over, her arms felt too light.

She reached out and took him back.

"Don't you want to leave him?" Marilla asked.

"I'll take good care of him, dear," the attendant told her. "It's good you're starting today, while I'm here. Since you already know me, I mean. We switch off every two weeks, so no one has to go too long missing the sermons themselves."

"Who are the other people?" Anne asked worriedly.

"Mrs. Bertie Jones and Mrs. Garret Hershaw."

"I don't know them," Anne said, biting her lip.

"They wouldn't be overseeing the nursery if they weren't suitable for the role," Marilla said briskly. "Anyway, _she's _here today, and you know _her_. Give Walter to her, and let's be on our way."

Anne started to hand Walter over again but then pulled him back.

"Anne, make a decision."

"I want to keep him," she said finally.

"All right," Marilla said. "Let's go, then. Before we're late. If you're worried about people looking at you, the last thing you need is to walk in late!"

Once at the entrance, Anne hesitated again. She did not want to walk into the sanctuary. Walter felt too conspicuous to her. "Maybe I should have left Walter there, after all."

Marilla was impatient with her. "If you want to, then run back and drop him off. But be quick about it.",

But Anne could not go, because what if Walter didn't understand why she'd left him? What if he thought she wasn't going to come back? What if no one else would know how to make him happy? She held him tighter.

"No…I guess I'll keep him with us." But she sighed, hating the whole situation. She walked hunched between Matthew and Marilla, trying to be as small and unnoticeable as possible.

People did turn and stare as they came in, but no one seemed to be whispering anything ungenerous, and Marilla was relieved.

"Let's sit in the back, I think," Marilla said, stopping them from going any further up the aisle. "That way if he becomes fussy during the service, we can duck out before he makes too much of a disturbance."

"Good idea," Anne said with relief, liking the idea of sitting in the back more for herself than for the baby.

Gilbert had not known they would be in church, and his eyes lit up when he spotted Anne from across the room. Fortunately he had the sense not to call out and attract attention to her. He came quietly over to them and sat down. Once seated, he smiled at Anne, who smiled gratefully back. Anne felt herself let go of the breath she'd been holding when Gilbert slid his hand over hers and squeezed it.

Church passed uneventfully and Anne used the prayer time to thank God for keeping Walter quiet during the service so that no one would look over at him.

As church ended, Anne saw the Andrews family filing out of a pew in the front. They did not see her- or did not appear to have seen her- Anne could not tell which.

* * *

Jane saw Anne and was overjoyed to see her, but then she glanced up at her mother.

* * *

There was a stiffness to the ride home.

Jane and Prissy didn't say a word, the air in their buggy being thick and tense.

"It had to happen sooner or later," Mrs. Andrews said softly. "I've been dreading it for weeks, and now it's upon us. If _only _she'd left him with those people, as she _planned_ to do! He'd be far from Avonlea- out of sight and gone from memory- and everything would have been different! ...We're going to have hard years ahead of us, Harmon."

There was a silence. Jane thought to herself, _They don't have to be hard years. Not if you don't want them to be..._

Mr. Andrews said only:

"We'll keep a distance."

* * *

Gilbert drove his buggy down the road after theirs, having been invited to Sunday dinner. Anne rode with him.

"It wasn't so bad," she said, her anxiety dissipating. "No one said anything to me. Did you hear anything?"

"Of course not," Gilbert said, reaching for her hand with the one that wasn't holding the reins. "No one has any ill will toward you. None at all."

Anne doubted that was true.

"How are you doing?" he asked. "With the weather, I mean."

"I'll be glad when it changes," was all she said.

"Gilbert," she suddenly spoke up, turning to him. "I don't know if I ever thanked you. For...for all the time you've spent with Matthew. When I was gone. ...I never told you how much it _meant _to me that the two of you were together since _I _couldn't be with either of you."

Emotion passed over Gilbert's face and he squeezed her hand again. "You should be thanking him, not me. He was...there for me...I hate to think of what that time would have been like..."

"I know you must miss your father terribly," Anne said softly, looking down at their hands intertwined.

Gilbert nodded without saying anything.

"I hope you know you _can _talk about it with me," Anne reminded him. "You have from time to time, but you haven't _lately_."

"I haven't _had _to feel sad, lately," he admitted. "When I'm home, sometimes."

"We ought to share our burdens equally," Anne told him.

"...But then I come see you, and Walter."

Anne smiled, pleased.

"Have Mr. and Miss Cuthbert said anything about me overstaying…?"

"No!" Anne said, eyes wide. "They _love _you. We all love you. ...I think sometimes that Walter likes you more than he likes me."

Gilbert laughed. "Don't say that."

"He _does!_ He just lights _up_. ...You're his best friend, you know."

"Uh oh, I hope Clara doesn't hear that! I think she thinks _she's _his best friend."

"I like him having another baby for a friend," Anne said happily. "They're nine months apart, but still- it's fun to watch them together. Actually, that was the first thing I ever _liked _about Walter- I liked seeing him play with Clara. And that was the first time he ever _laughed_. I suppose I never gave him much to laugh about, myself, but with _Clara… _You know, I thought the other day about how I _almost _gave Walter away, and how it occurred to me that Clara would grow up never knowing him. And that made me sad."

"Now that you've kept him, they can grow up together," Gilbert said. "I'm sure they'll always be friends."

* * *

Walter and Clara _would_ grow up together, in Avonlea school, but they wouldn't _always_ be friends. Someday, they'd be more.


	109. Matthew's Moment

That night, before bed, Anne stood at her open window, staring out at the chilly night.

"Fall, _please_," she begged in a whisper, a fervent prayer. "I need _so_ badly for winter to come. I'm not being ungenerous- you've been here an awfully long time, now, Fall, and I've borne it very well, I think. And _now_ I think it's time you ought to step aside and give Winter it's turn."

"Anne?" Matthew asked.

He was in her doorway, so quiet she hadn't heard him.

She pushed the window closed, the wooden frame creaking, just as a gust of wind hit the pane, and she went to him.

"Don't want you to catch cold," he said. "Marilla'll pitch a fit if she sees you with that window open. 'Specially with the baby up here with you now."

Anne smiled, leaning into him for a hug. As she fell into his arms, she glanced toward Walter's little bed in the corner- she hadn't stopped to consider how it might affect her sleeping baby to have the window pulled open a few minutes this cold night.

"The air don't bother you anymore?" Matthew asked her softly, wondering why she'd wanted to breath in the outside smells.

Anne shook her head. "It isn't that," she explained. "I had to _talk_ to it."

He looked at her questioningly.

She tried to explain. "The Fall. I…I had to tell it to go away."

She looked up at him, her eyes big and innocent.

"I've been telling it _every night_. ...I hope it _listens_."

Matthew had no words.

He leaned down to kiss her on top of her head.

* * *

"Anne."

Someone was shaking Anne gently out of her dreams. She shifted and sighed as she heard again, more insistent now-

"_Anne_."

She slowly opened her eyes. Was it morning? No, it couldn't be; it was still dark.

Yet Matthew was there, hovering over her bed, his hands on her shoulders. "Anne," he said again, more urgently this time.

Anne slowly sat up. "Matthew? What is it? Is something wrong?" She glanced over quickly to Walter's bed in the corner.

Matthew was smiling. "No. Come and see."

Anne slid out of bed, her bare legs, free from the warmth of the bed, froze in the cold air until she smoothed her nightgown down over them. When her feet hit the floor, she pulled them back in surprise- it was much colder now.

Moving her feet around, she quickly found her slippers at the edge of her bed and stood up to follow him.

"What is it?" she asked again, pulling her hair to one side.

Matthew was still smiling. "Come with me," he whispered.

He took her hand and led her down the stairs, the floorboards creaking as they went. Anne did not know what they were doing, but she trusted Matthew completely. She just hoped Walter would stay asleep, and that they wouldn't wake Marilla. Once at the front door, Matthew took Anne's heavy winter coat from the coat tree by the door and wrapped it around her.

Before he opened the door, he said, "Shut your eyes."

She did, and heard the door open. Yes, it had gotten even colder over the night. She felt Matthew scooping her up into his arms, and with her eyes still closed, she clung to him.

"Listen," he breathed. "What do you hear?"

The whole world was silent, so silent that Anne couldn't dare speak a word in response.

A hush had fallen over the earth.

She could _not _hear the wind blowing or the dry leaves as they scattered across the ground. She could not hear Fall_ at all_, though she held her breath in fearful anticipation of it.

"Shhh," Matthew said, though she hadn't spoken.

Gradually, there came a new sound.

She heard it first so _softly _that she wasn't sure she heard it at _all_. But then she felt Matthew step off the porch, and onto the yard.

"Open your eyes," he said.

Anne did.

It was white.

The ground, as far as she could _see- _over the fields and meadows, on all the treetops, the barn roof, and on the roof of her own dear little gable room- was a beautiful blanket of pure white snow.

It was _still _coming down, with that gentle, magical noise that can only be heard when the whole world is quiet and no one has yet woken up to know that its there.

Anne leaned her whole face toward the sky, letting the snow bathe her face.

When the novelty of that was gone, she looked at Matthew- lovely, _wonderful _Matthew- and she could not tell if the wetness on her face were tears or were the snowflakes that landed on her eyelashes.

He gave her a smile that filled her with warmth, and said two enormous words:

"It's _gone_."

She just stared at him for a moment, before it hit her what he meant.

"The Fall," she breathed, feeling a lightness coming into her.

Matthew nodded and whispered:

"_Winter's here."_

Anne knew, then, that they were her tears, and she clung to him even more. Matthew tilted his head backward, toward the open sky, just as Anne had done, and he laughed.

And when they were too cold to stand it any longer, Matthew carried her back into the house and up to her bed. He lay her down- the bed still warm, and even warmer to her now- and smoothed the covers over her. He kissed her on top of her damp hair and then left, as quietly as he came.

Anne smiled even in her sleep.


	110. Miss Stacy Again

Hi, I have not abandoned the story, I am just so busy working that it is hard to get time to write. But I have the weekend free so I hope to get another chapter or two up this weekend. Thanks for still reading even though updates are coming slow now.

* * *

"Anne will be glad when she sees that it snowed this morning," Anne overheard Marilla commenting to Matthew.

"I already know it snowed!" Anne said happily, loudly, clattering down the stairs with Walter in her arms. "It came in the night and wasn't it _glorious! _Matthew and I went out in the middle of the night to see it. We let it come down on us and laughed and _laughed_, in our nightclothes. Oh, Marilla, it was heavenly! I felt as if the angels themselves were flying down to us!" Anne spun around as she talked.

"Anne, stop that spinning at once! Don't you have the sense to realize that your spinning around means _Walter _is spinning around,_ too?_ You're lucky he hasn't been sick all over you!"

Anne stopped so suddenly that she crashed into the cupboard. Walter, startled by the crash, looked up at her, his eyes wide.

Marilla shook her head. "He's _dizzy_. My goodness, I hope he doesn't vomit! Don't give him his bottle yet- sit down and hold him first. _Calmly_, please."

Anne swallowed, sitting down on the bench and holding Walter still in her lap. She reached over to grab a bib in case he spit up from being spun around wildly.

Then Anne wondered if she ought to _hope _Walter threw up. It might _distract _Marilla from _realizing_...

"Matthew Cuthbert, you dragged that child out of bed in the middle of the night to stand in the cold, wet snow?"

Matthew looked everywhere but at his sister.

"I didn't stand," Anne defended, too happy to be bogged down by Marilla's obvious disapproval. "Matthew carried me."

"_Matthew_, my goodness, at your age, the last thing you need to do is to hurt your back by lifting!"

"She don't weigh much," Matthew argued. "Just a slip of a thing."

"Yes, well, you're lucky you didn't pull your back out!"

Anne gasped, "Oh, Marilla, I wish _you'd _have gotten up and come out with us! We were quiet not to wake you because-"

"Because you knew I would put a stop to your foolishness?" Marilla interjected.

Anne laughed; she couldn't help it, she was too happy. "Yes, we couldn't let you spoil the fun."

Marilla looked at her sharply, not finding Anne's attitude to be at all respectful.

But after a moment she sighed, shaking her head as if to signal that she was outnumbered and they had won.

"You'll change your mind when you catch cold and have to stay in bed with a fever," she couldn't help putting in.

Anne didn't mind Marilla not understanding. She still had Matthew, after all, and _Matthew _knew what was important.

Marilla, though she was decidedly against it, would forgive her brother for his foolishness- in her mind, anyway, if not to his face.

She saw that Anne and Matthew were looking at each other, smiling even more with their eyes than they were with their mouths.

* * *

When Gilbert came from school, he had a letter from Diana, chocolate cream cookies from Ruby's lunch, and a bit of lace that Tillie had saved from a dress her mother was making and she wanted Anne to use it in her sewing for the baby.

Anne was happy, but Walter put the lace in his mouth, as he did with everything.

Gilbert leaned in for a hug as he asked, "Did you notice anything different outside?"

Anne laughed. "Yes," she told him, hugging him back. "And it's a gift from the angels!"

Gilbert took Walter from her, because he was reaching out to him, and held him close. "It's enough to make a whole village of snow-people...but I suppose you can't go out in it, can you?"

Anne shook her head regretfully. "I can't. I wish Walter _could _go out, so we could play in the snow. ...But right now he'd only lay in one place and get cold."

"In a couple years, maybe," Gilbert told her, as Walter's little fist came up and punched him right in the face. "You've got a good arm, haven't you? I'll have to remember to keep out of your way once you're big enough to throw snowballs."

Anne took him back. "Walter, don't hit people," she said, frowning, as she looked into his face. "That's not nice."

Walter laughed.

Anne stood there, still, staring unhappily at him. She held him at arm's length.

"Oh, Anne, he doesn't know what he's doing," Gilbert reassured her, patting Walter's back. "All babies do that, they just grab at things and smack everything, that's normal. He wasn't being mean."

Anne sighed. She still looked unhappy with her baby. "Is Miss Stacy coming back?" she finally asked.

Gilbert smiled. "Yes, as soon as you want her to. She said she'll come any day. Any day you're ready."

Gilbert stayed and had cocoa with her while he showed her where they were in math, and he gave Walter a bottle before he went home, because he could tell Anne was still a bit put out with the baby.

As he left, he had an idea. He went to the side of the house, where Anne's window was, and, as quickly as he could, he built a rough snowman. He found a couple of twigs to put in for arms, and then he took off his scarf and put it around the snowman's neck.

He laughed to himself as he started for home.

When Anne went up to her room later that day, she looked out the window and was surprised to see a snowman there. She smiled when she saw his scarf around the snowman's neck.

She lifted Walter higher so he could look out the window and down at the world below. "Look, Walter," she said. "It's _Gilbert!"_

* * *

"I'll have to let her know I _told _you," Gilbert said slowly, reluctantly, after school when he told Miss Stacy that Anne could now have company again. "I hate to have to tell her that, but...I don't think I can keep it from her."

"I understand," Miss Stacy told him. "I hope she won't be angry that you did! ...Please let her know that it doesn't change my opinion of her in the slightest. I don't want her thinking I look down on her!"

Gilbert nodded, relieved.

* * *

Miss Stacy did not come quite yet, because Gilbert needed time to figure out how to tell Anne that he had shared her most personal information with someone without her consent.

"Anne," he said that afternoon.

Anne looked up at him, startled by his tone, and asked immediately, "What's wrong?"

Gilbert sat down on the floor next to her. He looked at Walter while he talked. "I need to tell you something. When...when you decided to find another home for Walter-"

Anne's arm went protectively to Walter, and she stroked his little blonde head. She was still bothered by him punching Gilbert in the face the day before, but even so, she did not like being reminded of the time she sent him away.

"Miss Stacy noticed I was...well, I was kind of a mess," he admitted with a little laugh.

Anne looked at him. Her eyes changed. "Oh, _Gilbert_," she breathed.

"Yeah...well, she asked what was wrong with me, and I told her that I was upset because you'd decided he should go live with someone else."

Anne bit her lip. "Did she think I'm awful for it?"

"She was surprised," he began. "She didn't really understand what was happening. She thought that you shouldn't be allowed to send him to other people, because_ I_ still wanted him."

"What have _you _got to do with it?" Anne asked, confused. "I mean, Gilbert, I- that's not what I meant- not that you don't matter- I just meant-"

Gilbert nodded. "No, I get it. But Miss Stacy thought that you and I, uh... She said I ought to have _some _say in what happens with Walter, because he's _mine_, too. ...Only he's not. So I had to tell her that." Gilbert watched her carefully.

"Yes, I suppose that is what people might think, if they didn't know what happened," she said slowly. "We're so close to each other, after all..."

She looked down at Walter, unhappily. "But Miss Stacy sees how close _we _are, and knowing that Walter came from a _different _boy- oh, Gilbert, she's going to think I go around getting close to _lots _of boys and doing that sort of thing!"

Gilbert took a breath, hoping for the best. "Well, that's the thing, Anne. I _didn't _want her to think you did that."

Anne looked at him.

"So...I told her that it wasn't done willingly."

Anne stared at him. Gilbert was waiting for her to get angry, but instead she just sighed, looking like all the air had come out of her.

"Are you angry?" he asked gently. "You have every right to be, and I shouldn't have done it."

Anne shook her head slowly. She wasn't angry. But there were tears in her eyes. "I can't face her, now," she whispered. "I can't possibly sit here in this kitchen with her, looking at her in the eye, feeling shame."

Gilbert grabbed her hand. "But why should you feel any shame?" he begged. "You didn't _do _anything; it just happened."

"And now she knows it happened!" Anne exclaimed. Then she shook her head. "But then, _everyone _knows! If she hadn't heard it from you, she'd have heard it from any other person in this whole town! ...Maybe she even knew _before_ you told her."

"I don't think she did know. She seemed really caught off guard when I said it. I'm sorry, Anne."

Gilbert shook his head.

Anne picked up Walter's foot and then dropped it. He was kicking his legs and it was annoying her. "...I guess it's better than her thinking I _wanted _to," she finally said. "Because all this time she's probably been thinking I'm...I'm a...a _floozy_."

Gilbert reached for her hand. "I'm sure she wasn't thinking anything of the sort."

* * *

The next afternoon, Gilbert arrived with Miss Stacy.

It was Miss Stacy's first time seeing Anne in a while, her last visit being before Anne had gotten depressed enough to send Walter away.

"Hello, Anne," she said with a smile.

"Hi," Anne said quietly, not looking at her. She wanted to feel excited about Miss Stacy being here, but now she only felt embarrassed to face her, knowing what she knew.

There was a short silence. "Why don't I take the baby off your hands for a while?" Gilbert spoke up, with forced cheerfulness.

Anne handed Walter over without a word.

"Anything I need to know?" he asked, again trying to sound light hearted.

Anne shook her head. "He doesn't need to eat, and if he needs to be changed just yell for me." She sighed. Her face was pink.

Gilbert, not caring how it looked, squeezed Anne to his side, giving her an encouraging smile. "Have fun," he said.

Anne looked at him. It _should _have been fun. Having Miss Stacy come used to feel like a treat. Yes, having a baby was embarrassing, but now that Miss Stacy knew more about how the baby had gotten there, it was somehow even worse.

"What would you like to start with today?" Miss Stacy asked with a smile.

Anne still wouldn't look at her. "Geometry," she said in a whisper, looking at the kitchen table.

Miss Stacy could tell there was a problem; this silent girl was not the Anne she knew.

Once they'd sat down and had their books open, Miss Stacy thought that Anne would begin to liven up. But Anne still just sat there, staring down at her book and refusing to meet Miss Stacy's eyes.

Finally Miss Stacy closed her book and looked at Anne. "I'm glad you decided to let Walter stay. Gilbert feels better, I know."

Anne sort of shrugged.

"I think it's nice you two are such good friends."

Anne nodded.

"It helps to have a close friend when going through a hard time."

Anne didn't say anything.

"You know I'm a widow, don't you?" Miss Stacy asked softly.

Anne looked up at her, startled. She had not expected the teacher to open up about something in her personal life like that.

Miss Stacy said softly, "And- as a widow- I know that sometimes bad things happen to people who are decent and hardworking and have the best intentions. ...And it's hard to figure out how to keep persevering and making a path for yourself, out of a life you didn't expect to have."

Anne was just staring at her with big eyes.

Miss Stacy did not intend to tell Anne very much, and decided to stop there. She concluded, "I think you're doing a fine job of it so far. If you ever need to talk, you have my ear."

Anne finally smiled a little bit.

They sat there a moment until Anne let out the breath she'd been holding since Miss Stacy arrived. "I thought fall was going to be awful, in _part _because I couldn't go to school like everyone else. But _you _coming _here- _this is nice. This is better. You are the bright and shining star in a night of darkness!"

Miss Stacy smiled. "It's nice to have a student so enthusiastic about learning."

"You give me something else to think about, besides dirty diapers. ...Such is my lot in life. I've _always _taken care of babies, ever since I was a little girl. It is different when it's your own, though...I can't decide if it's better or worse!" She went on passionately, "I wish I could be a teacher like you! I wish that you coming here to teach me could _count _as going to school. So that I could _graduate_. Because if I could just manage to _graduate_, then maybe- _maybe_ I could try to find some way of being a teacher."

Miss Stacy wasn't sure what to say. Finally:

"You're Walter's teacher- his very first one. And his most important! You can start by teaching him things like shapes and letters and such. Not now, of course- but in just two or three years, he'll be ready to start learning."

Anne shrugged. "I suppose."

Miss Stacy thought of something. "You know," she said, "I recently read an article about the effect that experiences in infancy have on a person's later education- there are things you could do right now! I'll bring it to you."

Anne knew Miss Stacy was trying to make her feel better, so she tried to act as if this idea was of interest to her.

* * *

"Too bad the leaves are all covered by snow!" Miss Stacy said as they were finishing up for the day. "I was hoping to bring my microscope over to let you look at the leaves under it. We'll look at snowflakes, too. You'll find those interesting. But I'm sorry you missed the fall."

Anne shrank back. "I don't like leaves," she said darkly.

Miss Stacy stared at her.

There was a silence.

Anne said lowly, "I don't like fall anymore."

Miss Stacy was confused by her sudden retreat and the shadow that passed over her face, until it hit her- she could do the math.

"Winter is going to be my friend now," Anne announced with forced optimism. "It's on _my _side, you know!"

"On your side?" Miss Stacy smiled.

"Yes, because it chases the Fall away, and covers the whole earth- and all the leaves- with its purity. ...Fall and I just have a rift between us right now. We'll still be the best of friends, someday...I _hope_. But for now, it'll just be an acquaintance of mine."

"I'm so pleased you can find beauty in winter instead. And a rift that can someday be mended? That's an inspired way of thinking of it," Miss Stacy told her with a smile.

Anne smiled back, adoring Miss Stacy with her whole heart.

"Anyway, who needs leaves? I like _snow _better. ...I read once that every snowflake is different. Is that true? Do they _really_ all look different from each other?"

Miss Stacy grinned. "They do," she said. "I think you'll find a lot of...what is it you say- scope for the imagination?- in snowflakes under a microscope! You just wait, we'll do that tomorrow."

Anne could hardly wait.

* * *

"Well, how was he?" Anne asked with a sigh, after she finished with Miss Stacy and had to return to her life of baby care.

"He's happy as a clam," Gilbert said cheerfully. Gilbert was smiling at Walter's babbling noises, but Anne was not.

"I'm still not happy with him," she grumbled.

"Why?"

"Because he's _mean!"_

"He's just a baby; how could he be mean?"

"He hit you! He's going to be a mean, horrible boy-"

"_Anne_-"

But Anne interrupted, "_Gilbert_, he hit you right in the _face!"_

Gilbert's cheeky response was not appreciated by Anne:

"So did you."


	111. The Second Christmas

Before they knew it, Christmas was upon them, and it was Walter's first, though he didn't understand any of it.

"You're growing fast," Anne told him as she dressed him. "On January 3rd, you'll be five months old! We'll have Christmas first, but after Christmas maybe we'll have a little birthday celebration for you. I know it isn't _really _a birthday, but every month is different for you."

Then she had a different thought: "Of course you're _really _much older than _that_. I've had you since last November! This isn't really your first Christmas. I guess in January you're _really _turning a year and two months, if I count from when you _first _came to be. ...Nobody counts that way, do they? But I do. I've counted out how old you were from the very beginning."

She pulled his booties on as she said, "There are a lot more things you'll be able to do soon. Maybe you'll learn how to roll over. I'm glad you can't crawl yet though. Babies only get more annoying once they can crawl. Then I'll have to be ever so much more careful about everything, because you can get into anything!"

Once she'd finished dressing him, she took him downstairs and got into the buggy to go to church. Matthew and Marilla were waiting.

"Why, Anne, you've dressed him in something other than that drab yellow thing you always put him in for church. Does it need washing?"

"No," Anne said. "I'm not going to make him wear that every week at church anymore. I only did because I thought it was his least noticeable outfit, and I didn't want anybody to look at him. But now I think he ought to look nice. So he can wear all his other clothes to church from now on. ...I thought this white one looked pretty for a Christmas Eve Candlelight Service."

Marilla was happy to see Walter dressed nicely, as if someone cared about him. And he did look fine indeed, in his long white eyelet gown and fancy bonnet.

There had been no christening for him- and Anne _so _loved the idea of a long white eyelet christening gown- so Marilla thought with satisfaction that perhaps Walter wearing white eyelet to a special church service might do just as well.

In church, they still sat in the back pew, so that if Walter began to fuss, they could take him out quickly before he made a great disturbance. Anne still could not leave him in the nursery, because she worried that he might think she wasn't going to come back for him.

When Gilbert arrived in his suit, he came to the back pew to sit with Anne. They smiled at each other. "Forget his basket?" Gilbert whispered, seeing that Walter was sitting on Anne's lap, visible to all.

Anne shook her head. "He's getting too heavy for it, I think," she whispered back. "Anyway, so what if people look at him? I still don't think he's cute, but other people seem to."

Gilbert smiled. "He _is _cute." He was happy to see that Anne's dread of people seeing her baby was going away- at least for now.

The Andrews were at church too, but they were always keenly aware of where the Cuthberts sat, and they tried to avoid any eye contact.

The candlelight service was lovely, though Anne was sad because with Walter in her arms she could not hold a lighted candle. She nearly took one, not thinking, and Gilbert saw the slump of her shoulders the moment she realized she could not, and she put it back regretfully.

Gilbert quickly reached for Walter and gave Anne his candle. She smiled at him, her eyes showing her love for him.

Gilbert held Walter in his arms while they sang _Silent Night_, and the church, hushed and shadowy, turned magical as dozens of candles flickered in the darkness.

As the notes floated up into the rafters, Gilbert slid his arm behind Anne, and Anne leaned into him, grateful for him in her life. She remembered last Christmas, when she was standing in this church during this same service, not knowing what her future held or if she was destined to have a baby from what had happened.

Anne stopped singing a moment, watching Gilbert holding her baby in his arms. Walter, made drowsy by the darkness and the music, lay against his chest, his little hand grasping the collar of Gilbert's shirt. Anne thought about how she had him _last _Christmas, too, only she didn't know it yet. He'd only been in existence for about a month, and he was too small for anyone to know he was there. Here he was, out now and very much real, and ready to see his first Christmas. She looked kindly at him while he yawned. She still wasn't sure how she really felt about him, but knowing how much everyone around her loved him, she felt that he couldn't be _that _bad after all.

As the song ended, another one began- _Joy to the World_. Everyone blew out their candles and the church filled with happy, boisterous noise as people began to greet their neighbors and wish everyone a merry Christmas.

Diana rushed over, throwing herself into Anne's arms. Even Mrs. Barry seemed full of Christmas spirit and greeted Anne and her baby with warmth.

As the Cuthberts made their way out of the church, Anne pulled Walter's blanket tighter around him to protect his ears from the cold.

Gilbert was invited to Christmas Eve dinner, and back again the next day for Christmas as well. Anne was allowed to ride back to Green Gables in Gilbert's buggy, and they followed Matthew and Marilla down the dark, snowy roads.

Anne scooted closer to Gilbert, and let out a contented sigh. "The service was nice," she said.

Gilbert agreed.

As they neared Green Gables, it began to snow, and Anne looked up at the sky, finding the snowflakes mixed with the starlight to be a gift.

* * *

After a hearty dinner, Gilbert bid them farewell, but Anne did not want him to go.

"I'll see you at church tomorrow," he told her. "And Miss Cuthbert invited me to come for Christmas dinner."

"Stay with us _all _day tomorrow," Anne implored. "Not just for dinner."

"I shouldn't-"

"You _must _stay," Marilla ordered. "Come home with us right after church in the morning, and stay all of Christmas Day. You can go home after dinner, if you'd like, but we won't let you before that."

He laughed. "All right. I can't refuse."

Anne walked out with him, after leaving Walter in his cradle, and stood at Gilbert's buggy for a few minutes with him, neither minding the cold.

Before they left each other, Anne said, "Gilbert? Do you remember how...after I came home from having Walter, I came over to your house, and...and I kissed you?"

Gilbert tried not to laugh. "Do I remember? Hmm, it _was _two whole months ago...I can't quite _recall…_"

"Oh, Gilbert, you're incorrigible!" Anne said, swiping at him.

Gilbert stopped, serious, gazing into her eyes. The kiss she'd unexpectedly blessed him those months ago had been light and brief and was over so quickly he'd hardly known it happened.

But _forget?_

Impossible.

He told her softy, "Yes, I remember it well."

Anne looked away, feeling awkward.

"What is it, Anne?" he asked her intently, his eyes deep.

Finally Anne went on: "Well...I wondered if...if we might try it again?"

Gilbert almost laughed at her sudden shyness over it.

But then he took her gloved hand in his own, and said softly, "I'd like that...if you're sure you _want _to…?"

Anne nodded slightly and found Gilbert's palm at her cheek, setting her skin on fire though the air was cold.

Both leaning in slightly, her lips found his, and though it was just the briefest moment before the lovers parted, the spark that passed between them turned the winter into summer.

When Anne returned to the house, she went quietly up the stairs and peeked into Walter's little bed. He wasn't asleep, but was lying contentedly, staring up at her, and she stared back. After a moment-

"I love you."

The words came out before she even realized she'd thought them.


	112. Christmas Day

Anne and Diana exchanged gifts after the Christmas morning service, while Mrs. Barry and Marilla chatted. Mrs. Barry seemed much more generous due to the holiday. She was complimentary toward Anne and even Walter, and let Diana and Anne find a cozy nook to sit and talk and exchange their gifts, not insisting on overhearing their conversation as she normally did.

"Oh, _Diana_," Anne breathed, lifting the lace handkerchiefs from the wrapping. "They're just the sort of thing that elegant, grown up ladies carry around to go out for the evening- to the opera maybe!"

They _were _exquisite. It was a set of three, and they were much more delicate than Anne's plain cotton handkerchiefs. These were purest white, with chantilly lace all around- having undertones of blue- and there was something embroidered in silk in teeny tiny letters in the corner- "Why, it's an A!" she gasped.

Diana grinned happily. "I got my mother to order them special. With your initial monogrammed."

Anne stared at her. Finally she tucked one into her pocket- being sure it poked out so that everyone would be able to see it- and said, "I shall never, ever profane this precious gift by blowing my nose on it."

Diana laughed.

'Now, yours!" Anne insisted- pushing a package toward her.

"Sheet music!" Diana exclaimed as soon as she'd torn the paper off.

"You seemed to like it so much when I gave you some before," Anne said. "And they're new songs! I went through a catalog. They're supposed to be _very_ popular."

Diana was happy. "Next time you come over, let's play them! I'll play them, and you can invent a dance to go with them!"

Anne laughed.

Mrs. Barry and Marilla were watching them, but too far to overhear.

"They certainly are happy when they're together," Marilla said. "Diana is a nice girl. She's made Anne feel so welcome here, and I'm glad."

Mrs. Barry smiled. "Diana's certainly enthralled with your Anne."

Marilla was holding Walter, and he began making noises. Marilla swayed back and forth a bit to calm him.

"Is he very attached to her?" Mrs. Barry asked.

Marilla was surprised. "Why, yes," she said. "It was a relief to me that Anne kept him after all, though I'm sure there were many who thought everything would be better if she sent him away."

Mrs. Barry herself had thought that, but Marilla was glancing over at the Andrews.

"It would have been, no doubt," Mrs. Barry said, with a glance at them as well.

"_We're_ well attached, too," Marilla said with a bit of a smile to the baby. "He's a dear little thing. It's still difficult- to cope with what happened- but sending Walter away would not have helped her."

Mrs. Barry hesitated, then said, "Miss Cuthbert, I...I hope you don't think I'm being uncharitable by only allowing Diana to visit you when I accompany her."

"Anne enjoys your visits," Marilla said- though it was a half-truth. "And she's pleased that you allow her to come to your house to visit Diana, too."

Mrs. Barry nodded, but said slowly: "When she's at our house, I still listen in on what the girls are discussing. I make them sit in the parlor or in the kitchen. ...I wondered if Anne had told you that."

"She did," Marilla said simply.

"I suppose that's made her feel unfriendly toward me," Mrs. Barry said regretfully.

"On the contrary, she completely understands," Marilla told her.

"_Does_ she?" Mrs. Barry asked, surprised.

Marilla explained, "Anne is mournful that she had to have that particular experience, Mrs. Barry. She's _happy _that Diana has no knowledge of what that sort of thing is like!"

Mrs. Barry looked ashamed. "Well...if Anne _is_ so set against Diana being exposed to such things, then...I don't suppose I need to go on worrying she will say anything...unpleasant...to her."

"Does that mean the girls can visit unaccompanied?"

Mrs. Barry nodded slowly. "I believe so."

After Mrs. Barry and Marilla called the girls back- and oohed and aahed over the presents they'd given to each other- the two families bid farewell, wishing each other a Merry Christmas.

Anne begged to ride back to Green Gables with Gilbert, who was going to follow behind the Cutbert's buggy.

Marilla said, "Off you go, then," and watched as Gilbert helped Anne up.

Marilla and Matthew set off, with Walter on Marilla's lap, still babbling away.

"He sure has a lot to say," Marilla remarked, amused, as Walter spewed a steady stream of incomprehensible syllables.

Matthew smiled.

"I wonder if he'll talk a mile a minute like Anne," Marilla went on.

Matthew shrugged.

"If he's anything like her, we'll never have a moment's peace."

Matthew nodded.

Eventually Marilla looked at her brother. "Well, it certainly won't bother me a bit if he talks a heap- it will fill up the space!"

Matthew's only speech was laughter.

As they made their way into the house, Marilla handed Walter back to Anne, because the moment he saw his mama get out of the buggy with Gilbert he threw his arms out and began to cry.

"What's wrong with you," Anne murmured to him. She scooped him up, but his crying did not cease and he kept his arms thrown out.

"He doesn't want _me_," Anne realized. "He wants _you!"_

She made her point by holding Walter out toward Gilbert. The moment Gilbert reached for the baby, he stopped his fussing and was happy again.

"Oh, that's all right," Anne said. "I don't mean a thing. I'm only your mother."

"I can't help it if I'm just naturally charming," Gilbert said, teasing her.

Anne laughed.

* * *

"Anne made a devil's food cake for dessert," Marilla told Gilbert and Matthew. "And it came out very well."

Anne smiled, pleased to hear pride in Marilla's voice.

Walter babbling noisily caused her to glance down toward him. He was lying on a blanket on the floor next to the table, playing with his Christmas gift from baby Clara- a wooden pull toy. It had come with a note attached that said, "Merry Christmas Walter. Love from your best friend Clara."

Anne smiled at him, but then she had a sudden thought, and asked, "Do you think it's all right to have devil's food on a religious holiday? Maybe I ought to have made angel's food cake instead..."

Matthew laughed, amused with Anne's way of thinking.

Before anyone could say anything, Anne went on, "I don't know why it's called devil's food, anyway."

"Because it's so rich," Marilla explained.

"There's something _else_ I don't understand," Anne went on, as she passed around plates to everyone to use for the dessert. "If God made the world-"

"_If_ God made the world?" Marilla asked sharply, her eyebrows raised.

"Well, _when_, then," Anne conceded. "_When_ God made the world. He made everything, didn't He?"

"Yes," Marilla said promptly.

"Then does that mean He made the devil, too?" Anne asked curiously.

"The devil was one of his angels," Marilla said. "A _fallen _angel."

"But if God knows everything before it even happens, then why did God make _that _particular angel, if he _knew _that he would become the devil? Wouldn't it have been better not to make him in the first place?"

"Yes, well, uh…" Marilla was tired of Anne asking questions she did not have the answers to.

But Anne kept going. "And then, nothing bad would ever happen, because the devil wouldn't be here to tempt people, and- you know what, Marilla? I really wonder if the devil is..._you-know-where_, or if he walks around on the earth, unseen. It's awfully _creepy! _See, the Sunday School teacher said something about the devil roaming the earth, _seeking whom he may devour!_ It made me shiver! Isn't that positively _deliciously _spooky? It's just the sort of thing I'd say around a campfire, if we _had _a campfire. Maybe God doesn't like campfires and spooky stories. Maybe he thinks it's all too dark. But then, why would he invent light _and _darkness, if the dark is so bad? I bet God would be all right with spooky-"

Marilla found a way to cut Anne off in an instant: "Since you're so interested in matters of theology, perhaps I'll have the reverend over to tea. You can sit with him and he'll tell you all you need to know."

"No, thank you," Anne said quickly, hushing herself. She did not like the reverend and had no desire to spend an afternoon with him.

"Now, then," Marilla said pleasantly, "Who'd like a nice big piece of Anne's devil's food cake?"

* * *

Gilbert's present to Anne came in a little velvet bag. "It looks tiny," he said. "But I hope you like it. I had to get something to put on that chain."

Anne, taking it, said, "Gilbert, this isn't your mother's ring again, is it? Because I can't take your mother's-"

"It's not," Gilbert told her. "Not yet."

Anne didn't hear the last part of his answer, because she was pulling open the bag to find a pendant with a tiny little gem in it. "Oh…" Anne said, looking at it. "Jewelry! I've never had jewelry before! I can put it on the chain you gave me!" Her hand went to her heart, touching the little filigree chain.

"That _was _the idea," Gilbert laughed; in her delight she hadn't realized what she'd said.

"It's blue," Anne said. "Such a light, clear blue. It's almost see-through."

"It's aquamarine," he said quietly. "It's your birthstone."

Anne was surprised. "Really? I had no idea. It's so pretty."

She held it up. "Look, Marilla, it's kind of like your amethyst brooch, only it's light blue instead of lavender."

"Amethyst is a birthstone, too- it's for February," Marilla supplied. "But, my, the March birthstone really is pretty. You're a lucky girl, Anne." She smiled.

Anne took off the chain she always wore and slipped the pendant onto it. She squeezed it, happily. "_Aquamarine_," she repeated. "It has a cheery sound to it, doesn't it?"

She stared at him a moment, and then she reached out and hugged him. She'd have kissed him, too- they'd kissed on the lips twice now: once yesterday, and once several weeks ago when she'd returned home from her trip- but Matthew and Marilla did not _know _that they kissed each other, and Anne did not want now to be the moment she told them.

Anne smiled at him and then suddenly she remembered that she also had a gift for him. "Here, Gilbert," she said in a rush.

Gilbert smiled at her and then peeled back the packaging. "A Doctor's Experience in Three Continents, by Edward Warren," he read from the cover.

"I saw it in a catalog, and I thought you would find it interesting...he tells all about what it's like to be a doctor," Anne explained. "All about his work, and his patients, and living in different locations. It's long, too- six hundred and thirteen pages!" she said with satisfaction.

Gilbert _was _interested. He opened the book and looked at the contents listing and then flipped through it. "Thank you, Anne. This is so thoughtful." He smiled at her.

"I have something for Walter, too," he thought of suddenly.

Anne was disappointed. "Walter doesn't have anything for you." She hadn't even thought of choosing gifts for her baby to "give" to people.

Gilbert laughed at that. "Well, I wouldn't expect anything from him. He couldn't reach the mailbox, after all."

Anne smiled.

Gilbert retrieved the parcel and gave it to Anne.

"Look, Walter," Anne told him, putting the package in front of him. Finally she opened it herself. Out came a strange animal she had never seen before.

She picked it up and looked at it. "Um. What is it?"

Marilla began, "Anne, you could have said thank you first."

Anne said, "Thank you. ...What is it?"

Gilbert smiled. "It's a kangaroo."

"Oh. Is it a made-up animal?" Anne asked curiously. She peeked into the pouch on the front of the animal and was delighted to find another, smaller version of the same animal inside. She handed the little one to Walter, who put it immediately to his mouth.

"Everything goes in your mouth, doesn't it?" Anne said, dismayed. She started to pull it from his mouth, but he protested, and she gave it back.

"Well, you'll have to think up a name for it, Walter," Anne told him.

As if to answer, Walter let out a noise: "Ahhh-zzz."

Anne looked at him. "All right, Oz it is! We'll think of a name for his mama later." She set down the big kangaroo next to Walter as he chewed on the little one.

"Gilbert, this is _neat_. I'm going to invent an animal, too. Maybe I'll even make a stuffed version for Walter to play with. Marilla, do you have any cotton batting I could use?"

Gilbert laughed. "It's not a made up animal, Anne. But I like your idea of inventing animals. But kangaroos are real. They live in Australia. Look, here's the pamphlet that came with it."

Anne looked curiously at what had come with the strange animal. She began reading it, until finally-

"_Anne_."

Anne looked up, startled.

"I've said your name three times now. I'm glad you're a good little reader, but would you like to finish opening gifts?" Marilla asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Oh. Yes," Anne said. "Sorry. Thank you, Gilbert." Then she lifted Walter up. "Say thank you, Walter."

Walter dropped Oz, ever delighted to be picked up by Guh-buh.

Gilbert held the baby as Matthew and Marilla handed Anne a package. Inside was a new dress. It was not a fancy dress. It was the sort of dress she could wear day to day- not suitable for a party or special occasion- but it _was _pretty. The dress was blue- a deep, royal blue- and was a far cry from her gray and brown dresses.

"Oh, Marilla. Matthew!" she breathed, lifting it out of the packaging. And once she was holding it up, she saw that there were- _puffed sleeves._

They were _not _enormous puffs, but there were definite puffs there- she could tell that extra fabric had been used- it was just enough to stick out and stand up around her shoulders, and she was delighted with the little puffs.

"Puffed sleeves!" she cried in wonder. "It's my highest _ideal_ of earthly bliss! Oh, _Marilla_, I thought you'd _never-_"

"I _didn't_," Marilla said dryly. "_My_ gift to you was the _dress_. Matthew's gift was the sleeves."

Anne looked at them.

"Those are not the sleeves I put on the dress," Marilla said. "I had a perfectly nice, sensible dress finished. And then Matthew came along, sticking his oar in, and said he wanted _his_ Christmas gift to you to be puffed sleeves. So I took off the good, _sensible_ ones I made, and-"

Anne threw herself into Matthew's arms.


	113. Christmas Night

When Gilbert set off for home, Marilla walked out with him, telling Anne to stay inside with the baby and not get cold.

She watched as he got his horse from their barn and got his buggy ready to go.

"Gilbert," she called with a glance at his buggy. "I've wrapped up some leftovers for you to take home."

Gilbert came back to retrieve the basket of food. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're most welcome. You gave Anne a special gift. And Walter too. But Anne...she's never had jewelry before, and I can already hear her saying that it will be _'an epoch in her life'_." Marilla smiled. "Though I hope it didn't cost you dearly!"

Gilbert shook his head. "No, I'm fortunate that Anne was born during a rather cheap month." He laughed. "Aquamarine was manageable. When I was looking at the jewelry, I found out I'm lucky- I'm lucky she wasn't born during April, May, July, or September. Then I'd _really _have been in trouble! ...I'd love to give her everything, but a farm boy can't do birthstones of diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires."

Marilla laughed. "I can already hear Anne asking how birthstones got started and who decided which stones should go with what months!"

They smiled at each other, bonding over their shared relationships with Anne.

Marilla looked as if she did not know how to end things. "I hate to think of you in an empty house," she finally said.

Gilbert shrugged that off. "It's all right, it's peace and quiet, right?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Yes, but...I don't think it's right. A boy of sixteen living on his own already! You ought to be with a grown up, at least for another year or so. I've thought before about whether you might like to come and stay with us...at least until you know what you want to do about your farm."

"I don't have to decide about my farm right now," Gilbert said. "Come spring, I'll have to, but not yet. I've thought of selling it. But I don't feel easy about that. I know my dad would want me to do what I thought would work best for my future, but I'm not sure I want to lose where I grew up...it'll be a hard decision, when the time comes."

"If you sell, what would you want to do?" Marilla asked worriedly.

"I plan to go to medical school," Gilbert said. "I thought about selling once it's time to go. I'd have the money from the sale to live on, and I wouldn't be able to handle the upkeep of a farm at that point anyway."

"That's true," Marilla said. "But when school is on break, you won't have your home to come home to…"

"I can rent a room in a boarding house in town," Gilbert said. "Wherever I end up, I mean."

"I suppose spending school breaks in a boarding house is all right. But if you stay nearby, and sell your farm, then I think you ought to stay with us," she told him.

Gilbert smiled warmly. "That's very generous of you, Miss Cuthbert. I'll keep that in mind."

He looked out toward his buggy, as if he didn't really look forward to that cold drive home.

"I still don't like to see you go off on your own. Do you think you'd rather stay with us a few days, at least until Christmas 'wears off'?"

"I better not, ma'am. Anne…" he gestured toward the house.

Marilla patted his arm. "You're a good boy, Gilbert. I trust you both."

After a moment she said, "Well, you come back and see us. Anne'll be expecting you. As will we."

Gilbert smiled. "Thank you, Miss Cuthbert. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Gilbert."

* * *

After Gilbert had gone, Marilla came back into the house, rubbing her arms together upon feeling the heat after the chill. Matthew had gone off to bed, and Anne was upstairs dressing for bed as well. Marilla checked the kitchen to be sure it was all tidy before she went to bed, and gave a satisfied nod when she saw that it was. She walked around the parlor, picking up a few things here and there, and then turned off the lamps. She decided to check on Anne before she went to bed, since she saw light peeking out from underneath Anne's doorframe.

Anne looked up as Marilla came in. Marilla saw her dear girl curled up in bed with the baby snuggled in next to her.

"I don't want you going to sleep that way, Anne," she said, frowning. "You know I don't like that. I keep worrying he'll be rolled over and smothered. Or that he'll drop right off the edge of the bed!"

Anne shook her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "We're just reading." She pulled Gilbert's pamphlet about Australia out from underneath the covers and held it up for Marilla to see.

Walter was laying on the mattress with Oz in his mouth. He was not very interested in Anne's reading of the pamphlet, but he liked hearing her voice.

"And you're sure you won't fall asleep with him there?" she asked seriously.

Anne said, "I won't."

"Well, don't be up too late," Marilla said, turning to leave.

"Marilla, wait," Anne said, pushing back the covers and sitting up. She pulled Walter from where he was lying and rolled him over onto his stomach. He did not like this and began to pout. Anne scooped him up and held him, and he stopped his fussing. "Do you think I should have given him a bath? I didn't."

Marilla shook her head. "Don't tonight, it's late. One of us will get around to it tomorrow."

She started to leave.

"Marilla, wait," Anne said again. She smiled. "Thank you for the presents."

Marilla smiled. "You're most welcome. Thank you for yours as well. Goodnight, Anne."

"Marilla, wait," Anne said for a third time.

"Yes, Anne?" Marilla asked, turning back, a little impatience in her voice.

Anne smiled. "Walter wants you to kiss him."

Marilla lifted her eyebrows. "Oh, does he?"

"Yes," said Anne.

She waited expectantly.

Marilla came over and gave him a little kiss. "Why don't I put him in his own bed now, Anne? He looks ready to go to sleep, and so do you."

"All right," Anne agreed, snuggling down into her covers. She watched as Marilla put Walter in his bed and wrapped him up. Then Marilla came back to Anne's bed and smoothed the covers down, too, just as she had done to the baby.

Anne smiled up at her from underneath the blanket. Marilla looked down at her face and suddenly wondered if Anne had asked for a kiss for Walter because she felt she could not ask for one for herself. And so Marilla, surprising Anne greatly, leaned in and gave her a quick little kiss on the top of her head.

Anne was smiling.

"Oh, and Anne," she said, a sudden thought coming. "I almost forgot your most important present. It came from Mrs. Barry."

Anne looked confused. "Mrs. Barry?"

Marilla smiled. "Yes. She's decided that Diana is allowed to come over by herself. She won't be accompanying her here anymore."


	114. Gilbert Alone

Gilbert couldn't help the feeling of emptiness he had as he reached home. His house was dark, no light shining in the windows, no one there to welcome him in. He got his horse and buggy situated and came in out of the cold. Once his coat, hat, scarf and gloves were put away, he, rubbing his hands together in the chilly room, went toward the hearth to try to bring some light and warmth to the bleak parlor.

He put away the leftovers Miss Cuthbert had sent home with him, smiling at her generosity and care for him. He decided to have another piece of Anne's cake before he went to bed.

The parlor was quiet as he sat with his plate on his lap and a mug of coffee in his hands.

_I ought to eat this in the dining room, or at least the kitchen, _he realized. _But I got so used to eating in the parlor with Dad while he was ill. Doesn't seem normal anymore not to._

And suddenly he missed his father very much.

_Wish you were here, Dad. I know you're happier where you are- in a place where there's no such thing as pain. And I'm glad for it. But that doesn't change how much I need you still._

Gilbert finished the cake, it no longer tasting good to him. There was something so very different about eating that cake at the Cuthbert's table. He thought about Miss Cuthbert's offer to him- to stay with them for a few days, until Christmas "wore off". He wished, now, that he had taken her up on it. Once Christmas was over, he wouldn't mind so much being in his empty house- he'd gotten used to it well enough. But at _Christmas_...

He sighed, setting the plate down and leaning back against the sofa. If he _had _gone to stay with the family for a few days, as Miss Cuthbert had offered, he would be on his way back there right now, a bag in hand, invited in to spend the night in the spare room.

Their spare room was upstairs, he remembered. Upstairs by Anne's room. And Anne would be just across the hall from him, getting undressed, going to bed...

Gilbert shook his head, sitting up. That wouldn't do. No matter how he'd like to let his mind wander, he _knew _now that he could never go over there and have just one wall between him and Anne in her bed.

Not that he'd ever do anything untoward, and he'd never pressure Anne to do anything with him- and he'd _certainly _never take advantage of the _trust _the Cuthberts put in him.

And there was no doubt in his mind that he'd be far happier in _their _home than in his own, but-

_No. No, I better not try to live with Anne until we're married: Then it won't matter if there's temptation, because once we're married, we won't have to stay apart. Once we're married, it'll be all right for us to do anything we want to do..._

_No. that's not right, either_, he realized. _When we're married, we still won't be able to...be closer. Anne said she can't do that. And I told her she didn't have to._

He lay down on the sofa. _So even when we're married, I'm still going to be miserable. It'll be even worse for me then, living with her every day in the same house- sleeping in a bed together. _

_Unless...will we even sleep in the same bed? I don't know. Is that going to be too much for her, too? _

_If she won't let us be in the same bedroom, I suppose in a way it'll actually be easier on me. Because if I have to sleep right next to her, being in a bed together, for weeks, for months, for years, but never getting to..._

He used to think he could handle this.

He'd told his father that's how things were going to be. _We hug,_ he'd told his dad, somewhat defensively. _And that's all right. That's enough. We're not going to do anything else._

His father had said "_that's very noble, son, but not very realistic_", and Gilbert hadn't understood why. Embracing, and holding hands, were nice, and that was all he would take from her. That's how things were going to be, and he accepted it.

But...but now that he and Anne had _kissed_\- kissed on the _lips_, he was suddenly very aware of how much he was drawn to her, how much he wanted to be able to indulge in her. His attraction to her was an entity of its own. He could not ignore it.

Yet he'd have to: He'd told her he expected nothing from her. That if she could not do the thing that married couples did with each other, that it was all right with him. They could be married without doing that.

But it seemed so impossible now.

He tried to stop thinking about that. _Go to sleep,_ he told himself. _Things will seem different in the morning._

He went to his room, washed and undressed for bed. He wished it was summer; then the sound of the crickets would lull him to sleep. But there was only swirling wind, and an icy branch that kept hitting the windowpane outside.

There was something so lonely about knowing that this house had other bedrooms in it, bedrooms lined up one after another, and only his had any _life _in it.

He felt better, then- so what if he was miserable, so what if he could never indulge in another level of intimacy with Anne? At least she'd _be _here. An empty place would not be empty any longer- she'd bring all of her energy and her warmth into this house- or any house they lived in- and transform it, and he'd be blessed to have her very presence.

He smiled. And then of course there was Walter. _Walter _would help fill up the empty space, too. Another disappointment he had to accept was that in all probability he could never have any children with the woman he loved...all those little ones he wanted so much, laughter filling the house...no matter; they'd still have _Walter_. Walter would be enough, he decided. He knew the baby wasn't his, but what would that matter, in the long run? He loved him, and he loved Anne, and so they would make it work. As miserable as he might be night after night, he'd try to be thankful for what he _did _have.

_Merry Christmas, Anne, _he said in his head as he went to sleep.


	115. The Future

In the morning, it did not seem so bad. A good night's sleep left Gilbert feeling that things would work out for them somehow.

_Maybe it won't bother me so much,_ he told himself with optimism._ After a while, maybe I'll get used to things the way they are, and I won't- I won't __**focus **__on that particular aspect of life so much. There'll be lots of other nice things about being married._

Then he had more realistic revelation: _It's __**still **__possible we might be together. Maybe after we've been married a while, she'll start to feel differently about it all. What happened to her, it's still so __**new- **__it was only just over a year ago- so maybe as the years go on she'll start to feel better, and then she'll see that it doesn't have to be something awful, not when she's with someone who __**loves **__her so much. ...I can't let on that I'm hoping, though. She'd feel terrible._

Gilbert was right to hope.

He and Anne _would _be together. It would not be an easy road, filled with many stops and starts- and frustration and tears from Anne, who truly _wanted _to be intimate with Gilbert, but felt unable to.

But they'd get there. They would be married a year when Anne decided suddenly that she wanted to _try_, fearful though she was. While this was a hopeful prospect to Gilbert, it was only the beginning- it would be months before the two of them could begin to enjoy intimacy, and it would take longer still for them to enjoy it without feeling as though the past was always with them.

But Gilbert was ever patient, and never once let Anne know how much he longed for her.

And eventually they'd have their houseful of children, starting with their daughter, a little girl they called Joy.

* * *

These were a couple heavy chapters. Next chapter is some lightness, fun with Diana. :) And after that, something interesting from the Andrews family.


	116. Two for Tea, and Tea for Four

The day after Christmas, Diana showed up at the door, alone, and for Anne, it was better than Christmas.

Matthew and Marilla smiled at hearing their laughter as they talked on a mile a minute, interrupting each other frequently and breaking into fits of giggles at random moments.

And the girls enjoyed knowing that if they _were _overheard, it was simply because they were too loud, and not because someone didn't trust them.

The novelty of being allowed to go so freely to each other's houses caused them to want to go back and forth, which they did several times that day.

First they stayed at Green Gables, and after a while they went to Diana's, because Anne wanted to look at Diana's Christmas presents. Then they came back to Green Gables because Anne had forgotten to show Diana the pendant Gilbert had given her. Then they had to go back to Diana's because Diana remembered she had a present for Walter. Then they had to go back to Green Gables again to put the knitted booties on Walter and see how he liked them. Then they wanted to go back to Diana's-

Finally Marilla said, "No more back and forth now, I've had enough of that!"

"But Marilla," Anne said. "We need to take Walter to Diana's house because-"

"You are not taking him out in the snow," Marilla said firmly. "I won't have it. And anyway, Anne, did Mrs. Barry invite _Walter _to come?"

"Well, no," Anne admitted. "But _I_ can come, can't I? And if _I_ can come, then _he_ ought to be-"

"Don't _press _Mrs. Barry," Marilla warned. "It was a big step for her to change her mind to allow you and Diana to visit unaccompanied. Don't ask her to allow anything more. If she wants Walter there, she'll inquire about him.."

Anne and Diana were both disappointed. Marilla said, "Anyway, since he can't go, you can stop all this going back and forth now."

"But we have to go back to Diana's house. We need to have her sheet music. She already learned the first song and she's going to play it for me!"

"Fine, go to Diana's now if you must, but then straight home."

"But can't Diana stay for tea?" Anne begged.

"Neither of you seem willing to stay _anywhere _for very long!" Marilla sighed.

"But _can't _she?" Anne pleaded.

Marilla was exasperated. "Yes, I'll _hold _tea until you're both back. Don't be long!" .

"We'll play her songs and then we'll come _straight_ back, Marilla," Anne promised. "Honest."

"And then you will say your goodbyes to each other, yes?"

"Yes," the two echoed.

"Off you go, then," Marilla said, glad to be rid of the girls for a bit. "Let Mrs. Barry know we'll drive Diana home after she's had tea with us."

Marilla watched them practically bouncing through the snow. _I know they're happy, but no amount of happiness makes it sensible to trudge through fields of snow for no real purpose!_

* * *

"Anne, you must stay for tea," Mrs. Barry said calmly, looking elegant in a mint green dress. Mrs. Barry, feeling rather sorry for Anne, hoped to show her a kindness.

Anne began, "That's very kind, but-"

But then Diana poked her, and holding back a grin, shook her head a little bit.

Anne smiled conspiratorially at Diana, but to Mrs. Barry, she smiled sweetly and said. "I'd love to, thank you very much, Mrs. Barry."

Mrs. Barry smiled. "I'll let you girls choose what you like. Diana, take Anne into the pantry."

Anne and Diana tried not to giggle as they found raspberry cordial, finger sandwiches, tea cakes and scones, bringing one thing out after another and making themselves a grand feast.

Mrs. Barry was pleased to see the girls indulging in the rich food, and rather than hovering nearby, she decided to make herself occupied elsewhere to show Anne that she had her trust. But as soon as she was gone, Anne and Diana began giggling over the idea of having _two _teas. They stuffed themselves to the brim, and when they were finished, Diana told her mother that she wanted to walk back to Green Gables with Anne and stay a bit longer, not mentioning that it was because she was invited to tea. Mrs. Barry allowed it.

"Matthew will drive Diana home," Anne told Mrs. Barry, suddenly remembering that Marilla had offered this.

"How very kind," Mrs. Barry said with a motherly expression toward Anne. "Have a good time, and be sure, Diana, to thank them for bringing you back home."

"I will," Diana agreed good-naturedly.

Through the snowy fields, Anne and Diana were miserable. "Why did we eat so _much?"_ Diana groaned.

"Because it was delicious!" Anne said. Then she laughed.

"But how are we going to have tea at _your _house?" Diana wondered.

Anne patted her stomach. "We'll stuff it in," she said with a laugh. "I suppose we _could _tell Marilla we already ate."

"We could," Diana nodded.

"In fact, we probably should," Anne told her.

"Yes, we should," Diana agreed.

"But we won't," Anne said.

"No, we won't," Diana laughed.

"Let's see what she's _got _for us!" Anne said. "Let's _race!" _

Anne and Diana began to try, but realized they were simply too full to move very quickly, and instead only stumbled clumsily through the snow, erupting in fresh laughter.

Marilla smiled as they came noisily into the house, the snow caked on their boots falling off on Marilla's clean kitchen floor. "I must have missed the joke," Marilla commented. "What's gotten the two of you so discombobulated?"

"Discombobulated!" Diana said, giggling at the silly sound of the word.

Marilla was surprised; Diana usually seemed to be such a refined young lady. But she shook that off, knowing that for a long time Diana had no freedom under her mother's thumb.

"Well, I'm glad you're in now! No more back and forth. Diana, you stay for tea, and whenever you're ready to go home, we'll drive you. Come sit down, girls." Marilla gestured to the table she'd laid out. "I'll leave you be, I'm sure you have a lot of silly chatter my ears don't need to be infiltrated by. I hope you're both hungry, I made a lot." She started to leave.

"Oh, yes, we're _very _hungry," Anne said. "We're _famished!"_

Diana giggled. "_Starved_, practically!"

Marilla did not understand why hunger was funny; she shook her head and left.

After Anne and Diana ate- food delicious but much simpler than Mrs. Barry's tea- there was a knock at the door.

"Miss Cuthbert," Mr. Barry greeted Marilla with a tip of his hat. "I thought I'd come collect Diana. My wife told me that Mr. Cuthbert had offered to drive her home, but seeing as I was headed this way myself, I thought I'd save you the trip. Though it's mighty kind of you to offer."

"Oh, please, come in. Good day." Marilla said with a nod. "Diana?" she called. "Your father is here."

Diana, followed by Anne, came to the front door.

"Mother wanted me to fetch you myself, since I'd be passing through," Mr. Barry told his daughter. "It's nearly time for dinner, so we must get back. Though I'm sure you're not a bit hungry after the enormous tea your mother told me about! I hope there'll be something left in the pantry for your dear old papa to eat! Now tell Miss Cuthbert thank you."

Diana hugged Anne, and then- surprisingly- she hugged Marilla too, who nearly lost her balance at the unexpected squeeze.

"Thank you for coming, Diana," Marilla said, almost uncomfortably- she was not used to random children hugging her; she was only just now getting used to _Anne _hugging her.

But the moment Diana and her father had gone, Marilla turned to Anne. Anne knew exactly what Marilla was thinking, and then Marilla verified it by speaking the words aloud:

"So you had tea at the Barry's, did you? And according to Mr. Barry it was _an enormous tea_. One that you couldn't _possibly _be hungry after," Marilla said sharply.

Anne said slowly, "Well, Mrs. Barry told us we could go into the pantry and have whatever we wanted...and, well, after she was so nice to me, it felt impolite to _refuse…_"

"You're right about it being impolite to refuse, and I'm glad that you obliged Mrs. Barry when she offered and I hope that you were a _gracious _guest."

"Oh, I _was!"_ Anne insisted.

"It sounds to _me_ as if you gobbled up every crumb in the house! And that didn't satisfy you, either- you came home and didn't see any need to let me know you'd already had tea somewhere else?"

Anne looked everywhere but at Marilla.

"Diana must have thought you had no manners," Marilla muttered. "Unless this was _her _idea?"

"It wasn't really an _idea_, exactly."

"That's what all the giggling was about, wasn't it?"

Anne bit her lip.

Marilla went on, her voice sharp. "It's _gluttonous_, is what it is! Gluttonous and a waste of food! Not to mention the extra dishes to wash- at _both_ houses. I've half a mind to make you go over there right now and apologize to Mrs. Barry."

"Do I have to?" Anne said mournfully. "Maybe she won't _like_ me anymore."

Marilla softened. "No, you don't have to. I suppose I might be being a bit harsh about it...you and Diana are only acting silly because you've been kept from each other. I'm sure the two of you will act like _mannerly_ young ladies soon enough, _won't_ you?"

Anne smiled. "Yes."

Marilla said. "Since you're back now, why don't you help me with dinner?"

Anne did, but felt nauseous at the thought of eating.


	117. Jane Has Two Gifts

Anne wished that Diana could come and stay all day again, but the following day school was back in session, and so Diana would be gone all day, with Anne left at home by herself.

She did not even have Jerry, because with the snow, his services were not needed. He would, of course, be coming back once the snow was gone, but to Anne, the time Jerry would return to work was very far away. Jerry's big family lived in town, and Anne thought about going to visit him, but she preferred to keep her time in town as limited as possible nowadays. And anyway, Marilla had mentioned that during the off-season for farming, Jerry was busy working in his family's shop, so he wouldn't have much extra time- if any at all- for her to hang about talking to him.

Anne was glad that at least Jerry had given her a Christmas card before he left. Thanks to her help in reading all those afternoons, Jerry had been able to write _Merry Christmas, Ann_ all by himself. Anne was so happy that she did not even point out that he had left off the _E_. And Jerry had been so grateful to get Anne's meaningful gift to him: _McGuffey's First Reader_.

So Anne felt like a deflated balloon all day, waiting for _someone _to come by and make her feel as if she were part of the world again.

"Gilbert will come after school- he always does," Marilla pointed out while Anne moped.

"I know," Anne said, hauling laundry into the washtub.

"And Miss Stacy," Marilla remembered.

"No, not Miss Stacy. She's doing some of her parent-teacher conferences today. She said she would come tomorrow, though."

"Oh," Marilla said. Even _she_ sounded let down. But then, trying to sound more positive, she said, "Diana might come over with Gilbert after school."

Anne shook her head sadly. "She can't. She has a piano lesson."

Anne was tired of playing a housewife; she'd done it for most of her life and after she'd gotten that brief window into what school was like, it was hard to go back to what she felt was a life of drudgery. She tried to remember that at least _now _she was with Marilla and Matthew, who _loved _her, instead of the Hammonds. But that thought didn't exactly cheer her up as she poured laundry soap into the washtub and set to work scrubbing dirty clothes.

When school was over, Anne watched the clock. Gilbert was there shortly, and Anne practically fell into his arms.

"Glad to see you, too," Gilbert laughed, hugging her.

"_Tell me every single thing that happened at school today,_" Anne demanded, pulling him to the sofa and sitting down.

Gilbert stayed for a little while, but not long after he arrived, he said, "I'm going to head home. Jane said at school that she wanted to come see you sometime this afternoon."

"Really?" Anne asked, bouncing up to look out the window right that very moment.

Anne walked Gilbert out so that she could kiss him- quickly- without Marilla or Matthew seeing.

That made both of them happy, but while Gilbert rode all the way home thinking about that kiss, Anne forgot it the moment she saw Jane coming through the field of snow to see her. Anne was so anxious for _company_.

Finally Jane reached the house, and Anne pulled her into the parlor so quickly that Jane dropped the parcels she was carrying. Anne picked them up for her, and absentmindedly placed them on the bench.

Jane was pulling off her boots, not wanting to leave water on the Cuthbert's floor.

"Oh, I'll get you my houseshoes," Anne thought of. "Then your stockings won't get wet."

Anne rushed up to retrieve them from her bedroom, and came down just as Jane was taking off her coat.

"Jane, you look _breathtaking!" _she exclaimed, seeing that Jane was wearing a new dress.

"Thanks, Anne- I got this for Christmas!" Jane replied, pleased.

"Well, it's beautiful._ I_ got a new dress, too, Jane- come here and I'll show it to you!" Anne dragged Jane up the stairs and into her bedroom.

The girls sat in Anne's room, talking, until finally Jane said she'd better go home before it got dark out.

"Oh, all right," Anne said, disappointed. She wanted Jane to stay forever. But she reluctantly got up and led her friend downstairs to the door.

"Oh!" Jane exclaimed, reaching the door. She saw her parcels there on the bench. "Anne, I nearly forgot! I have Christmas presents for Walter!"

Anne was delighted. "Presents?" But then she looked crushed. "But I didn't really get _you _anything..."

Jane nodded happily. "Yes, you did! At school, Diana gave us the cookies you baked for us right before we went on break for Christmas."

"Cookies don't seem like much of a present," Anne said quietly, feeling bad.

"If it makes you feel any better, the presents I have aren't _for _you," Jane said with a laugh. "They're for Walter. I started on a gift for him the very day that you brought us the cookies!"

"All right, then," Anne said happily as Marilla came in.

"Look, Marilla, Jane brought presents for Walter!"

"That's very kind," Marilla said. She was holding Walter at the moment; now she handed him off to Anne.

Anne took him into the parlor, Marilla and Jane following, and she set him down on a blanket on the floor in front of the fire. "Walter, Aunt Jane brought you presents! Isn't that nice? Tell her thank you," Anne directed.

Walter just stared, disinterested.

"He _means_ thank you," Anne said for him as Jane got on the floor and opened the brown paper packages.

"There are two," Jane said. She took one out and put it in front of him.

"You got him two?" Anne asked in surprise.

Jane just nodded.

She sat there a moment. Then she said, "Oh, Anne, do you have my rabbit, and the bear Gilbert got him?"

"Yes," Anne said, glancing around the room. She saw the toys and retrieved them. "Jane, _look_, he has another animal now- Gilbert gave this to him for Christmas! It's a _kangaroo_. They come from Austria. I mean, no, _Australia_. Isn't it neat? Look." Anne opened the pouch and showed Jane how there was a baby kangaroo in it.

"Oh, I'm glad," Jane said happily. "Because, see, the present I made is supposed to go _with_ his animals!"

She pulled out her gift:

She had made a little brown cloth basket.

"It looks kind of like a picnic basket," Anne commented.

"It is, sort of," Jane explained.

She opened the cloth basket and pulled out various pieces of colored felt she'd cut out into shapes, stuffed with cotton batting, and sewn shut.

Anne was looking at them. "They're food!" she realized, picking up an orange colored stuffed 'tomato' and a piece of green felt cut to look like a lettuce leaf. "Little stuffed versions of food to eat!"

Jane nodded happily. "I thought Walter could play that his animals are all going on a picnic!"

"I love that idea!" Anne exclaimed. She adored all the tiny food pieces.

Marilla was pleased to see Anne excited about something for Walter to do.

Jane frowned. "Though I suppose it's a little bit too _soon _for him to play that way," she said, but then she smiled: "But I had the idea, and I liked it too much not to start working on it right away!"

"Oh, Jane, it's _wonderful!" _Anne cried, delighted.

Anne and Jane looked at the little picnic set and fussed over it for a few minutes.

But then Jane just sat there.

Finally Marilla said gently, "Do you want Anne to open the other one?"

"Oh," Jane said, looking almost embarrassed. "Um. Yes. Here. Go ahead."

Anne took the box from her. Once she got the wrapping off, she saw a white box.

Upon opening that, she was faced with an outfit for Walter.

It was not very often that Anne was rendered speechless. Without a word, she lifted the gown out and looked it over.

Jane said quietly, "I know that you really always wanted things in white eyelet. But my- um, I made this instead. ...I hope ivory silk is all right, too."

Marilla was staring at it along with Anne.

Anne ran her finger along the delicate lace that went down the front.

Every button had a cover of ivory silk over top of it, the silk folded expertly behind the button.

There was embroidery on the little lace cap, and every detail was so intricately done. Anne had to look closer to tell what the picture was: there were two white doves, so tiny and detailed Anne could not believe that she'd never known Jane had such talent.

The bottom edges of the gown were tapered, and the ivory silk was pressed to make ruffles that were all exactly the same size, as if someone had actually measured before they ironed it.

"Jane, I had no idea!" Anne finally breathed. "You really made this?"

Jane just nodded, ducking her head, not looking at Anne.

"How did you _do _it? I could _never _do something like this, not in a million years. _My _sewing doesn't look a bit like_ this!" _Anne said, shaking her head in amazement.

"I have to go, now," Jane said. She got up quickly.

"Must you go so soon, Jane?" Marilla asked, finally taking her eyes from the gown.

"Yes," was all Jane said. Then: "Goodbye, Anne."

Anne glanced up. "Oh, can't you stay? Please? I feel like you just got here!"

Jane shook her head.

Marilla followed her to the door.

As Jane quietly put her coat and hat on, Marilla commented, "I had no idea of your handiwork."

"Yes, ma'am," Jane whispered.

Marilla went on, "It's quite remarkable. ...Especially for a girl your age."

Jane did not say anything.

"Why did you give Walter _two _presents? One would certainly have been enough."

Jane just shrugged, not looking at Marilla.

"Well...it was very nice of you, dear. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jane whispered. "Goodbye."

Marilla watched her go, walking away through the snowy fields toward home, growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared from view.

When Marilla returned to the parlor, Anne was still staring at the gown.

"Can you believe Jane made this?" Anne breathed, with a shake of her head.

Then she began packing away the picnic basket items.

She took a closer look at that stuffed orange felt tomato and frowned. "I guess she was in a hurry when she made _these..._"

Marilla looked at the tomato. It was sewn neatly enough overall, but there was a snag in the cloth from where the thread had gotten knotted and yanked through, and from time to time, a stitch was uneven.


	118. The Question of Mrs Andrews

"It looks like a christening gown, doesn't it?" Anne asked.

"It _is _a christening gown," Marilla admitted. "A very expensive looking one. That fabric and lace must have cost quite a bit."

Anne wondered why Marilla sounded a bit displeased. "He doesn't _have _to wear it, though," Anne quickly told her. "I like white eyelet, so I think he ought to wear his white eyelet gown." She smiled at Marilla, thinking it would make Marilla happy to know she preferred the outfit they already had.

But Marilla took a breath. "That's not it, Anne," she finally said. "Let's talk about christenings later."

"But what's wrong?"

Marilla patted her hand. "Nothing that need trouble you, dear. Walter needs a bottle. I already got the water heating on the stove for him. Why don't you go finish getting it ready?"

Anne put the gown back into the box, and left for the kitchen.

* * *

Marilla, holding the gown, thought back to an incident in church, during the time that Anne would not go. She had gone to the reverend, in his study after the service, and asked to speak with him:

"I wondered about deciding on a time for a christening," she began. "Anne isn't able to come to church yet, but she's healing nicely and it won't be long, so I thought we could-"

She was cut off by the reverend.

When their short conversation was over, and she opened the door to leave, she bumped right into Mrs. Andrews. She was so close to the door that the wide brim of her hat got knocked off kilter. Marilla asked sharply, "Were you listening in?"

"No," Mrs. Andrews sniffed, straightening her hat. "I have no interest in your affairs. I was simply retrieving a pamphlet." She suddenly looked down at the table outside the study, snatched a pamphlet in her hand, and stalked away.

Marilla watched her leave, feeling unsettled.

* * *

Mrs. Andrews thought about that overheard conversation all the way home:

"This church has never held christenings for illegitimate children and it never will," the reverend had said coldly.

"But surely-"

_Miss Cuthbert can't get a word in_, Mrs. Andrews thought.

"That child was conceived in sin," the reverend stated, referring to the parents being unmarried.

"Yes, he certainly _was _conceived in sin," Marilla had agreed, though the lack of a marriage was _not_ the sin _she _had in mind.

She went on: "But I fail to see why the sin of the father should cause the poor child to be unworthy in the eyes of the church!"

The reverend said: "If you had done the right thing- the _proper _thing- and made the two of them _marry_, then the child wouldn't have been considered _illegitimate_, and we wouldn't be having this conversation. And we needn't be having it now- there is nothing I can do."

"There is nothing you can do? Nothing you're _willing _to do, you mean," Miss Cuthbert had said, her voice wavering with her anger. "_Why_ on God's green earth would we have made them marry? I'd never do that to poor Anne, and even _if _I'd thought a marriage was for the best- which I _don't- _a marriage takes _two_, you know, and the Andrews will do nothing to hold their _son _accountable to Anne!"

"Did you ask them? Did you try?" the reverend had asked.

"Why would we _want _to?" Miss Cuthbert argued, her voice raising.

The reverend cleared his throat.

"It isn't anyone's fault but Anne and William's that their child is illegitimate," the reverend said calmly. "Perhaps you should direct your feelings about it toward them. If it had been up to _me_, they'd have been married before the baby came."

There was an empty silence and then-

"So that's settled- there's no changing your mind- you're refusing to christen him?" Miss Cuthbert had said flatly.

When Mrs. Andrews went home, she went straight to her bedroom.

When their maid announced it was time for dinner, Mrs. Andrews said she had a headache and would not be coming down.

* * *

Marilla was a church-going woman and wasn't going to let her dislike of their reverend stop her from practicing her religion in the way she ought to. She believed a good Christian went to church. ...She also believed a good Christian had compassion and care for innocent children. She thought about asking when the reverend planned on retiring.

* * *

Marilla wondered how long Anne would be naive enough to think that Jane make the outfit.

Not long, it seemed.

Marilla noticed Anne seemed to be looking at it constantly. In fact, she never took it into her bedroom, and it lay on the coffee table for several days. But she wasn't looking at it like she had at first- fascinated with the intricacy- instead, she seemed to be deep in thought.

Finally, one day, as Anne was looking at it for the millionth time she said "I don't think Jane made this."

She did not say it as if it were a sudden revelation she had come to, rather, she said it as if it was something she had thought for a while but felt afraid to say out loud.

Marilla looked at her. "I don't think she did, either."

Anne sighed and flopped down on the couch. "Why did she _say _she made it?"

"Maybe it was easier for her that way," Marilla suggested. "...Or maybe she was told not to tell who really made it."

Anne nodded slowly.

"I noticed you called Jane Walter's _aunt_," Marilla approached carefully.

"He calls _all _my friends aunt," Anne explained. "Or, I mean, he will, when he can talk."

Then she sighed, and admitted: "But I started that _because _of Jane."

Marilla wasn't sure what to say.

There was a silence.

"I feel sorry for Jane," Anne finally said.

"I feel sorry for her, too," Marilla admitted.

Anne burst out, "Jane doesn't deserve any of it. It feels like she's all alone in the world, sometimes, Marilla- she's got her family, but they treat her so badly! _And _she's always stuck in the middle! Sometimes I think she wishes she were part of _our _family instead of _her own!_ And I guess because of Walter, she _is _sort of a part of _my _family a little bit."

Marilla nodded. "She's related to him, yes. That's a matter of fact. But if it bothers you for her to be called aunt, then you should be able to explain to her why it does- I think she should understand, Anne."

"It _doesn't _bother me that she's his aunt," Anne said. "And I don't mind her being called so, because she's my friend and she loves him, too, and she's a good person. ….It only bothers me that _her _being his _aunt _naturally means that her _brother _is…" Anne trailed off, not wanting to say it.

Marilla nodded. "All right, but that doesn't mean you must accept the gown if you don't want it."

Anne just looked at her, as if waiting for guidance.

Marilla suggested, "If you don't feel like keeping it, you could give it back."

Anne shook her head. "I don't want to go over there...and I don't want to make Jane take it back, either...they might not be _kind_ to her if she brings it back. In fact, I think they probably _wouldn't_ be..."

"You could mail it to them," Marilla suggested. "I know we live near enough that mail seems silly, but it might be the easier way. And then it wouldn't fall to Jane to deliver the message."

"But what would I say in the note?" Anne asked.

"You don't have to say anything, just mail it with no note attached. You don't owe them any explanations. And really, Anne, I think they'll _know _why you're not keeping it."

"I feel funny putting it back in the box and returning it," Anne admitted.

Marilla explained, "But you're doing it _nicely_. You're not ruining the outfit and tossing it haphazardly into a box. You'd use the same box it came in, and make it look just like when it came- neatly folded, and put the lid on, and send it back."

"I don't want to make trouble for Jane at home, though," Anne said regretfully. "Even if she doesn't have to take it home herself, I know they'd blame her for it."

"I think it's very thoughtful of you to consider Jane's feelings," Marilla began slowly. "But I don't want you to do things _you're _not comfortable with, either."

Anne didn't answer that and instead asked, "Why do you think Mrs. Andrews did it? She had to have spent a long, long time- and a lot of money- making that!"

"Anne...I went to ask the reverend about a christening," Marilla felt forced to say. "And he...uh, he thought that...well, he thought it wouldn't be a good idea. Mrs. Andrews happened to be nearby and I believe she may have overheard the discussion."

Anne stared at her. After a long moment her face crumbled.

"Oh, _Anne_," Marilla said, feeling grieved for her. She reached out and stroked her hair.

Anne did not speak, she just cried.

Finally Anne said pitifully, "I _wanted _to have one. I don't think anyone would have _come_, but even if it was only _me _and _you _and _Matthew_, I...I just liked the _idea _of it, Marilla. ..And the _christening gown..._"

"You _have _a christening gown, sort of- that's why you have the white eyelet gown," Marilla tried to comfort her. "We made it to be just like a real christening gown, didn't we? And you had Walter wear it on Christmas Eve, to the candlelight service. ...That was a special day, wasn't it?"

Anne realized that Marilla had tried to fix the problem, and she cried because there _was _no 'fixing the problem'.

"Mrs. Andrews was just rubbing it in my face, wasn't she?" Anne said, her face showing the hurt she felt. "She _knew _there couldn't be _any _christening and she made that gown just to remind me that he'd never _get _one!"

"Oh, Anne, I don't think that was it at all," Marilla said, stroking Anne's hair. "I know we haven't considered her to be a kind person, but I don't think anyone would sit night after night working on such an elaborate, time-consuming gown for the sole purpose of hurting you. I think, though we don't particularly like Mrs. Andrews, that we may assume she _meant_ it to be kind. Perhaps...perhaps after what she overheard, she felt she ought to make it _up _to you somehow- that if you couldn't have a christening, you could at least have the gown."

Anne tried to stop crying, but was unsuccessful. "I don't _understand _her," she finally said, her words coming out wobbly. "I don't understand why she keeps paying for things for us and sending gifts if she blames _me_ for everything and she wants to pretend Walter doesn't exist and she's never even friendly to us! The bank account- and the money for the boarding house- and the hospital- and the food and...and...why does she _do_ it? It doesn't make _sense_."

"Maybe you should ask Jane about that," Marilla said after a moment. "Because I don't understand it either."


	119. Choose a Side, And Then Stay On It

Marilla told Anne she wanted to take a walk outdoors by herself, and reminded Anne to be sure to get Walter's bottle ready by noon. Anne was doing a good job taking care of the baby now, but she still had trouble remembering a schedule and sticking to it. And she didn't want Walter to have to cry it out while Anne scrambled around trying to get things ready for him. So Marilla wanted to remind her what time it was before she left Anne on her own.

Marilla's walk led her right to the Andrews' home.

Mrs. Andrews was surprised to see a Cuthbert on her front step.

"Mrs. Andrews," Marilla stated without any warmth, "I have something to discuss with you."

"Uh- come in," she said, somewhat flustered and not knowing how to respond to Marilla's stiff, formal greeting.

Marilla did not want to come in, but then she marched right past Mrs. Andrews into the house. She wanted to appear strong, and standing outside while Mrs. Andrews played gatekeeper at the door did not make her feel strong.

"Are you in need of something?" Mrs. Andrews said, her chin held high. She reached for her purse, trying to appear calm and collected. Money was power.

Marilla did not answer.

"Please, sit down," Mrs. Andrews said with a sigh, seeming to realize her money was not going to make Miss Cuthbert go away.

Marilla chose her seat carefully. A high, straight backed chair was better than the low, plushy sofa. She sat up straight and looked Mrs. Andrews in the eye.

"What is it you wish to discuss?" Mrs. Andrews finally asked, awkwardly.

"Your gift to Anne," Marilla said sharply.

Mrs. Andrews face changed. "I don't know what you mean. I remember vaguely that Jane made some little gift to bring over, but-"

Marilla cut her off. "You are not fooling me, and you won't fool Anne. We both know Jane did not make that christening gown. _You _did. What I want to know is _why_."

Mrs. Andrews stared at her for a long moment. "Oh, that. I'd forgotten that. It was just an old thing I had lying around. I told Jane she could have it, I assumed she wanted to put it on one of her dolls-"

"Does Jane play with dolls?" Marilla asked, clearly not believing this story.

Mrs. Andrews shrugged that off. "Well, on second thought, I suppose she could have been asking in order to pass it along to you. But if I'd known, I'd never have-"

Marilla sighed. "It would be helpful," she said sharply, "If anything you said had a ring of truth to it."

Mrs. Andrews face felt too warm, and she looked away.

Finally she said, "I suppose I may have had something to do with it."

"Jane didn't seem eager for Anne to open it," Marilla went on. "Why did you make her do it? Why did you make her lie for you about where it came from?"

Mrs. Andrews didn't answer.

"Were you too uncomfortable to approach us yourself?" Marilla demanded.

Mrs. Andrews finally nodded just slightly, so slightly it was barely visible.

"So to avoid discomfort, you forced your daughter into discomfort," Marilla summarized.

Mrs. Andrews bristled. "I don't see why it's any concern of yours _who _brought it over. What difference does it make where it came from?"

"Did you make it, Mrs. Andrews? Did you buy it? Was it some sort of old family heirloom? I want to know where it came from."

"I did make it," Mrs. Andrews admitted. "To an extent. The gown was an heirloom, but I made the cap and booties and I re-did the lace on the front of the gown and added the ruffles."

"Why exactly is it that you feel _our _baby should be getting an heirloom that belongs to _your _family?"

"Miss Cuthbert," Mrs. Andrews said, standing up and speaking firmly. "I have many things to do today, and your uninvited visit is an inconvenience. I'll ask you to leave."

Marilla stood up and walked toward the door. "All right," she said. "But please see to it that Jane doesn't arrive with any more family heirlooms under the guise of being her own handiwork."

Mrs. Andrews started to open the door for Miss Cuthbert to leave. "I can send Jane over to collect it," she said coldly. "Since Anne doesn't appreciate quality goods."

Marilla's eyebrows shot up. "Anne doesn't _appreciate-_"

"I've seen how she dresses him for church," Mrs. Andrews said snidely. "That _drab yellow thing he's always in!_ You complain about my gift, but if _you _can't afford to clothe him properly-"

The fact was, Marilla herself had used those _exact _words to describe the outfit Anne insisted on Walter wearing to church- when they left for the Christmas Eve service and Anne appeared with the baby in the pretty white eyelet gown Marilla had made, Marilla had commented with surprise, '_Why, Anne, you've finally dressed him in something other than that drab yellow thing you always put him in for church.'_

But now Marilla's voice rose. "Walter has a perfectly fine wardrobe, that _our _family has provided. What Anne chooses to dress him in for church is none of your concern. But I suppose you think we ought to be _grateful _to your family, do you? I never should have accepted one red cent from you! You're _entitled_, is what it is. You think that by throwing Anne some money, you've absolved yourselves of your wrong-doing, and that from now on _we're _in _your _debt? You felt _obligated _to help with clothing, just as you felt _obligated _to help with hospital bills and the boarding house rent. Why did you not buy a bolt of fabric, or even just throw _money _at her again, and then _you _don't have to do any of the _actual _work?" Marilla felt her corset uncomfortably as she was breathing so angrily: "Anne thinks you were _mocking _her by sending a christening gown when it isn't possible for there to _be _a christening. And I defended you to her! I said you meant it to be _kind_. Well I can see now that giving you the benefit of the doubt was a mistake! Sitting hunched over that outfit night after night making little embroidered doves and fancy lacework must have been an outlet for your venom! Did you send the most expensive thing you owned, simply to highlight the difference between what _you _can afford and what _we _can? Because I assure you, Anne would rather have simplicity in his belongings than to be...to be _bought off _with _your_ dirty money!"

"That is not how I meant it," Mrs. Andrews said, quietly defending herself.

"Why would you give her an outfit that's a family heirloom, an item you'd _surely_ rather save for if you someday have a _grandchild?"_

Upon the word _grandchild_, Mrs. Andrews became very interested in the ceiling.

There was a long silence as she refused to make eye contact with Marilla.

"Well isn't this a curious development," Marilla finally said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mrs. Andrews said in response.

There was another silence.

Marilla said, "I want it on record that I don't approve of you being involved in _my _grandchild's life." She took a breath. "However, I'm trying not to make so many choices _for _Anne." Marilla looked pointedly at Mrs. Andrews as she said: "She's had enough choice taken _away _from her already!"

Mrs. Andrews blushed.

"So it is up to _her _what she wants to do with your...gift. And it is up to her what she thinks about you. I won't decide _for _her. But...but this back and forth you do- treating us badly, but then turning around and giving her gifts- it's confusing for her, and that confusion is causing her distress. There must be some sort of boundary, or...or at _least _to know where we stand!"

"So..."

"It is better for you not to do any kindnesses at all, than to do a kindness that comes with a sharp tongue and a haughty expression."

Mrs. Andrews just stared.

"Choose kindness, _or_ choose venom. _Whatever _you do, once you've chosen a side, then _stay on it!" _

She ended her order firmly, and then said, "I'll be going now."


	120. Remorse

Jane said she was going to go over to Anne's house after school. Her mother asked her to wait.

Jane thought she was going to be scolded about going over there so much, but instead, her mother said only, "When you go, could you see if...if Anne will keep the gown, or if she wants you to take it back home to me?"

Jane stared at her. "Why wouldn't she want it?"

"Because it came from me," was her mother's soft reply.

"I told her the story," Jane said with a sigh. "I told her _I_ made it."

Mrs. Andrews shook her head and pulled her daughter close. "Miss Cuthbert came over, and asked about it. I told her the truth. ...I shouldn't have made you lie for me, darling."

"It's all right," Jane told her, surprised.

"No, it isn't, and I shouldn't have done it," Mrs. Andrews said, shaking her head. "What kind of mother makes her daughter tell lies?"

"Was Miss Cuthbert angry that _I_ lied?" Jane asked fearfully.

"No," Mrs. Andrews said. "I'm sure she thinks you're a very nice girl, and she was upset for you that I had made you come over with a false story and caused you discomfort. When in truth, if there was any discomfort, it should have been my own and not made to be yours. And...and maybe that there needn't be any discomfort, if I would change my ways a bit." She smiled a bit sadly. Jane noticed her mother's eyes seemed different to her, somehow.

"What did she say, Mother?"

"That I've confused Anne a great deal by giving them money and gifts while at the same time being unkind and even cruel to her. That I can't have it both ways. Miss Cuthbert said...I should choose a side to be on, and then stay on it."

Jane nodded.

"So...now I must choose which side to be on."

Jane pressed her mother's hand. "I hope you choose a side that lets you live with yourself".

It was a very bold thing to have said, and Jane was afraid her mother would be angry with her.

But her mother only sighed. After a moment she put her hands to her face and breathed deeply as if to steady herself. When she looked again at Jane, she looked conflicted.

"Mother," Jane pleaded softly, "I'm all alone."

"You're alone?" her mother asked, having no idea what she was talking about.

Jane explained: "You're all against me." Her eyes welled up. "If you were on my side, I wouldn't be alone anymore..."

"But your father, and Prissy, and Bil-"

Jane cut her off gently: "Prissy would go along with whatever you said, Mother. And Billy isn't here to have a say. And as for _father_, maybe if _you _decided to be on our side, then he might come to see it our way, too. Mother...I don't like being the only one."

Mrs. Andrews looked at her and finally sighed. "What Billy did to her has bothered me for a very long time. It's just..."

"_What_, Mother?"

Mrs. Andrews looked weary. "It's just _easier _to be _angry _then it is to be _sorry_."

After a moment she said, "But I don't see that there's any point to _trying _to...to mend fences. They don't want...they wouldn't have any _interest _in...it isn't as if we could be _friends_."

"But it's not _about _trying to be her friend!" Jane gasped. "It's _just _about telling her that you know you've acted on the wrong side. It's...absolving her of the burden _we've placed_ on her. It's telling her that we have good thoughts instead of bad..."

Finally Mrs. Andrews nodded.

"You know," Jane suggested hesitantly, "You could write, instead of talking. Writing can help in so many situations. You can...you can get your thoughts down just the way you want them, and be sure you're saying what's really in your heart, and that you haven't put up a front."

"What'll I _say?" _she asked, searching for guidance, as if _Jane _were the parent instead of herself.

Jane's answer was simple: "Whatever it is you _need _to say, Mother."

* * *

Jane's mother stayed up very late that night, with a small lamp in a dark room, collecting her thoughts.

There were many, many pages filled when she had finished, most which would never see the light of day, but which she needed to release onto paper, if only for herself.

After many hours, she was able to gather what it was she wanted to say about what had happened. It wasn't long, but it was enough. And what's more, it was truthful and humble.

She did not expect that the Cuthberts would be willing to read it, and she resolved not blame them if they refused her.

Finally, when she was finished, she lay her pen down, and looked up, seeing her reflection in her mirror. She tried to relax her face; it seemed so pinched and bitter to her these days. "No more putting on a front. ...If I feel sorry, then I must _be _sorry. If I feel kind, then I must _be _kind. This...this mask of superiority must come off, before I ruin more than just myself."

She glanced down at her Bible, lying on the desk beside her. A cross-stitched bookmark Jane had made when she was still a little girl was tucked between the pages. It made Mrs. Andrews smile to see it; Jane had been so proud of her work. Mrs. Andrews pulled it out now and looked at it. It was white and lavender, and had a child's smiling face on it, under which Isaiah 11:6 was stitched. Mrs. Andrews paused, suddenly curious. She was sure she used to know what that meant, but it had long escaped her- her Bible was trotted out for church on Sundays when the family must be prim and proper for all good appearances, but the book sat dusty otherwise.

Mrs. Andrews opened it now and searched for Isaiah 11:6.

"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb...and a little child shall lead them."

Jane's mother closed her eyes, remorse filling her. "Lord, my little girl's leading me, isn't she? ...Please don't let me be a wolf anymore."

* * *

...and now we will see what anne thinks of this apology from mrs andrews. she may not like it!


	121. Unwelcome

Mrs. Andrews decided to pick Jane up in their buggy after she visited Anne, instead of Jane walking home. She had a letter to deliver.

The knock on the door startled Marilla, but not as much as who was knocking.

Marilla glanced into the parlor behind her, as if to make sure Anne was not around, and then turned to face Mrs. Andrews. "Yes?" she asked without warmth.

Mrs. Andrews was tempted to respond with just as much coldness, but swallowed her pride and tried to look friendly. It was a challenge. "Miss Cuthbert, I-"

Anne and Jane clattered into the parlor from the kitchen but stopped short when they saw Mrs. Andrews in the doorway. Anne went right back into the kitchen, her hand covering Walter's face and her eyes big. Jane stood rooted to the spot where she stood. "Mother," she said, surprised.

"Hello, dear. I came to pick you up. And to- to give- uh, Miss Cuthbert, would you be so kind as to read this?"

Marilla reached out and took the envelope, never taking her eyes off Mrs. Andrews, who had an expression of fragile hope.

"I don't mean now, of course," Mrs. Andrews said quickly, "But sometime."

"What is it in regards to?" Marilla asked, trying to be patient.

Mrs. Andrews cleared her throat and seemed to need to adust her collar. "Uh- just some things- that we spoke of. I...well, I must be going. Jane, go say goodbye now."

Jane wordlessly nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Why is your mother here?" Anne hissed, her hand still over Walter's face.

Suddenly his cry pierced the air and Anne could have died from embarrassment. She left Jane without waiting for an answer, and raced up the stairs with her baby, anxious to get his noises far away from Mrs. Andrews' ears. Once up in her room, she slammed her door and leaned against it, Walter held close, Anne still covering his little round head with her hand. "Shhh," she said frantically. "Don't, don't make noise. You're only going to make it worse. You're embarrassing me!" She would have put her hand over his mouth if it wouldn't have suffocated him.

Jane did not follow her. Instead, she leaned against the wall to hear what her mother and Miss Cuthbert said to each other.

Mrs. Andrews was still staring at the entry to the kitchen, as if she could not get the image from her mind.

Marilla brought her back to earth by saying, "While Jane is saying goodbye to Anne, may I ask about the contents of this-" she held up the envelope- "so that I may decide whether or not to open it?"

Mrs. Andrews swallowed, feeling hurt but reminding herself she could not expect any different.

"It's not more money, is it?" Marilla asked.

Mrs. Andrews shook her head, her cheeks pink. "I thought a great deal about what you said to me the other day, and I have come to the conclusion that I have acted terribly, and I wish to apologize."

Marilla softened only the tiniest bit. "Well, that's interesting. ...I'll look at it later."

"I hope you're not upset at me showing up this way," she went on uncomfortably, "But I thought I'd pick Jane up."

"You've never picked her up before," Marilla commented. "In fact, I thought you'd been pretending she wasn't coming here at all."

"I've been doing a _lot _of things I don't intend to do anymore…" Mrs. Andrews trailed off, and seeing Jane come in, she said, with forced cheerfulness, "Hello, pet. Are you ready to go home?"

Jane nodded, looking back and forth from the two women, wondering what was going to happen between them.

After she left with her mother, Marilla went up the stairs in search of Anne.

Anne was coming out of her bedroom, leaving Walter in his bed because she did not want to look at him anymore.

"Are you upset?" Marilla asked, rather pointlessly, seeing her face.

Anne wiped her eyes. "Having Walter is _embarrassing_."

"Oh, _Anne-_"

"It _is!_" Anne insisted. "I'm...I'm through with my embarrassment of him when it comes to other people. I mean, I think I am. But Mrs. Andrews looking right at him makes me embarrassed of him all over again! At least he happened to be facing the other way when she came in. She's never seen his face close up and I don't want her to! I don't like that she came here at all. What was she trying to do, insult us in our very own house instead of just insulting us at church like she usually does?"

"She's never said a word to us at church," Marilla pointed out calmly.

"She doesn't need to," Anne argued. "Her whole way of _looking _at us is an insult. If she put her nose up any higher it would hit the brim of her big stupid hat!"

"Anne!" Marilla scolded, shocked. "Now I know we've had trouble with her but I won't stand here and allow you to speak so disrespectfully!" Marilla softened a bit when she saw Anne's eyes fill up. "There's no reason you should be embarrassed of him when the Andrews see him. They'll get a better glimpse of him at _some _point, as he gets older and he goes to church or...or into _town- _it's not possible to hide him forever, it's much too small a town for that! ...What's so embarrassing about his face, anyway?"

Anne, uncomfortable, mumbled, "I don't know. I just don't _like_ the way his face looks and I don't want _them_ to see it."

Marilla shook her head. "Are you sure you aren't _imagining _things? He's _only _six months old, and babies looks change so much-"

"Looks may change but _eyes _don't!" Anne said hotly. "Oh I'm sure _they'd _see nothing at all wrong with the way he looks, and maybe they'd even _like _him!"

"Would it be so bad if they _did _like him?" Marilla asked. "Them liking him won't _change _anything at all, because they won't be involved at all. We'll live _our _lives, and they'll live _theirs_, and it shouldn't make _any _difference to you what they think."

Anne was frustrated. She stomped away and threw herself onto her bed. Walter was still fussing in his. She sat up suddenly and watched him. "Stop looking the way you look!" she ordered.

Walter stopped fussing, and just stared at her.

"Stop looking at me!" she snapped, and then the baby began to cry.

Marilla came in, picked him up and carried him away, leaving Anne alone in her room.

Downstairs, she set Mrs. Andrews envelope, unopened, in her rolltop desk. She hid it underneath Walter's birth certificate, since she knew that was something that Anne would not touch. Mrs. Andrews envelope would have to be looked at later...if at all.

Marilla sat down in her rocker and held Walter close. She would not choose to change even one thing about this precious baby, though for Anne's sake she hoped that as he got older he might start to look a bit more like his mama. But glancing at him, she had her doubts- his looks, to her, seemed to be set, and they were going to have a rough road ahead of them.

Marilla wondered what was in Mrs. Andrews envelope and decided she would open it, after all. She took it out of the desk and slid her finger underneath the flap, pulling it open. Walter believed the envelope would be a good thing to eat, and as Marilla began the letter, she did not stop him from chewing it to a slippery mess.

She was too distracted by what she was reading.


	122. To Know Where You Came From

I know this chapter was supposed to be Anne seeing the letter Mrs. Andrews wrote but that's going to have to be the next chapter. I watched Season 3, episode 2…and was left in tears. No spoilers, it's just that it made me realize how important Anne would think it is to know where you came from. So after I watched it, this had to come instead.

* * *

Marilla was giving Walter a bath in the kitchen sink.

Anne came clattering down the stairs, and Marilla wondered when she would ever learn to be calm about anything. She stopped, hearing the thumps, and sighed, then went back to washing the baby, though she was getting splattered with water because Walter was realizing for the first time how much fun it was to be in the bath. He laughed and waved his arms, splashing.

Anne walked in and looked at him. "I can do that," she said, sounding grumpy.

"So can I," Marilla replied. She picked him up out of the sink and set him on the towel on the counter.

"But now you're all wet," Anne commented, looking at Marilla's dress.

"I'll survive," Marilla answered, drying Walter off, which was hard because he wouldn't stop moving.

Anne came over to her. "Are you angry at me, Marilla?"

"No," Marilla said, surprised, turning to her. "Not at all. What made you think such a thing?"

Anne shrugged. "I got mad at him again."

Marilla pulled Walter's clothes over his head and directed his arms through.

Anne watched the collar get stuck on his head and his arms waving around until Marilla got his head through. Then she took a pair of booties and put them on.

"Yes, you did," Marilla agreed. "And I understand why you did. But I hope you can figure out how to love him despite your feelings towards the Andrews. He wants your love very badly, you know."

Anne dragged Walter closer to her by pulling on his legs. "These booties are already too small," she said, noticing, and she took them off. "He has bigger ones upstairs."

"When you go up, then, be sure to put them on- it's chilly, even in the house," Marilla reminded.

Anne nodded. She hoisted Walter up. "He's heavy," she complained.

"He's growing. He'll be able to sit up on his own, soon," Marilla told Anne. "And it won't be long before he can eat what we eat."

"Then we can stop sending away for that mix," Anne said gladly.

"Well, no, he'll still need that," Marilla explained. "Babies still need to be nursed- or bottle fed- even when they're beginning to eat solid foods. You should know that, from taking care of babies for so long."

Anne shrugged. "I never thought about their nursing, though- it wasn't as if I could do that part. And I don't do it for him, either."

Marilla told her, "No, you don't. You don't have to. You know, you really ought to read those books I got, Anne, so you'll know more about what to expect coming up."

"I guess I better," Anne said. She did not really want to read them. Reading them only made her remember that Walter was going to get older and older, and what was she going to do then?

She carried Walter upstairs and put him on her bed. "You can play with your toys from Aunt Jane, now." She picked up the picnic basket and turned it over on him, so that a waterfall of vegetables and sandwich materials came down over his head. He looked up in surprise as the stuffed tomato fell on his forehead.

"I wish you wouldn't put everything in your mouth," Anne told him, annoyed. She popped the toy right out of his mouth and wiped it on her handkerchief. Walter looked surprised; one minute he had what he wanted and the next it was suddenly gone. He reached for it with a hearty wail, and finally Anne gave it back. "All right, all right," she told him. "I should make you clean them when you're done."

She sat on the bed and stared at him. He couldn't really play picnic with his picnic set. All he could do was throw the toys and laugh, and get them all slobbery. "Maybe you'll be more interesting when you're older," she said. "At least you can play for real instead of just chewing on everything and making a mess!"

Walter stopped suddenly and looked at her. Anne looked back at him. Finally she sighed and pulled him onto her lap. "I'm sorry I keep going back and forth about you. I don't mean to, really, it's just..." she touched his little blonde head.

Then she lay down on her bed, watching him play.

"...Sometimes I think it would have been better for you to go away, and I don't even mean for _my _sake; I mean for _you_...you'd grow up without all this...baggage. Because it's going to be _hard_. People are going to be mean to us... Did you know you can't even have a christening? Other babies get one, and you won't. Your name _is _in the church's records...if you ever go looking for it, you'll see there you _are_...but there won't be any christening. It isn't _fair_. And then you have people around you who..."

She didn't want to talk to him about the Andrews. She pulled him to her suddenly, which made him lose his balance, and his toy rolled away, but he did not complain because she had tucked him close beside her where she lay, and he was happy to be held by her. He made a content noise and relaxed into her arms. Anne squeezed him.

"But I didn't leave you, because...at least you'll _know _you're mine, you know? You won't have to wonder if I ever _loved _you..."

She lay still for a moment, something hitting her: "But maybe you _will _wonder if I love you? I've only said it _once_. Well...I love you, I love you, I love you. There, now you've heard it _four _times. That's more than_ I_ ever heard it. ...No, that still wasn't good enough, was it?"

She sat up and pulled him up, too. She went downstairs and took him into the parlor. "I'm going to get your things and put together that book Marilla wanted me to make, remember that? We'll get your birth certificate...and your church record, that cradle roll thing...and...what else?"

Anne set Walter on the sofa and opened the rolltop desk to search for paper.

"Marilla told me mothers are supposed to want to remember things about their babies- when they took their first steps and all that stuff. So, that's what I'm going to do."

Anne found paper, but Walter had rolled off the sofa and fell to the floor. He began to scream.

Anne scooped him up and held him. "Oh no! I'm _sorry..._"

Marilla rushed in. "Good heavens, what's happened?"

Anne bit her lip. "I let him fall off the sofa...I didn't mean to."

"Yes, I'm sure you didn't mean to," Marilla said, aggravated sounding from rushing into the room in a panic.

Anne patted Walter's head.

"Why are you in my desk?" Marilla asked.

Anne nodded at the baby, "Walter needs paper," she explained.

"Oh, is he hungry?" Marilla asked. Her dry humor was accompanied by a rigid expression.

Anne stood up. "I have to make a book for him. Remember how you told me mothers save things from their baby? I have to do that, too."

"Oh, well, that's nice to hear," Marilla said, finally giving a bit of a smile.

Anne had found paper and sat down on the floor exactly where she was and began. "Can I make a new jar of paste? I won't be able to make a book without paste, and the jar I made before got all dried up."

Marilla nodded. "Yes, but not now, please. Why don't you just get everything you want all together and take it upstairs to your room. You can do the writing up there. You can paste later."

"All right," Anne said contentedly.

Marilla went back into the kitchen, and Anne scooped the papers from the rolltop desk into a pile to take them upstairs.

She held Walter like a football under one arm as she managed her pile of papers with the other arm.

She plunked Walter onto the floor- not placing him on the bed since his sofa roll had scared her- and she spread out her papers on the floor.

There was a stack of fresh paper Marilla had, ready to be filled with her writing, and then there were the baby's papers:

"Let's see, here's your church thing- the cradle roll certificate. That's nice. And your birth certificate- the fancy one...and-" she said with a sigh- "The _real _birth certificate, too."

There was an envelope underneath his birth certificate, but she didn't look at that yet, and instead turned her attention to the little black and white legal form.

She did not want to look at it, because Billy's name was on it- but she forced herself to. "I just have to decide that it's not going to bother me," she said, feigning confidence. "I can make up my mind that it doesn't. ...If I try to hide this, you'll feel cheated- I know _I_ would. I don't know anything about where _I_ came from, and if I had someone who knew but wouldn't tell me- trying to _hide _it from me!- I wouldn't like that one bit! ...I suppose you're lucky, really, that you _have _all this information...even if it isn't good. ...Now, what am I supposed to write down about you?"

She thought about this while staring at him. "Marilla says mothers write down the dates of things. But that doesn't sound very interesting. I know, we should make it like a _story! _We'll start with Christmas, because I liked Christmas. Now...hmmm...all right here: _Once upon a time in Avonlea, the church held a magnificent celebration. The sanctuary was decorated in holly and evergreens, and everyone wore their finest. You were dressed in a gown of white eyelet, that Marilla made for you. You wore a white bonnet too, and I wrapped you up all snuggly for the buggy ride to church. When the music started, you kicked your feet because you were so happy, and your booties fell off. You did it again when Gilbert came in and sat with us. He was dressed in his suit, but even so, he let you drool all over it, and he didn't even mind, because he loves you so much. You loved to be held by him, too, and he held you when it was time to light the candles. You stared and stared at the candles, but you couldn't hold one yet- maybe in a few years. You got sleepy during the candlelight part, but you woke up when we sang Joy to the World. You and I rode home with Gilbert in his buggy, and when we came home..."_

Anne wrote for a long time. She filled up two pages of what Walter did on Christmas and what presents he got and how he reacted to each and every one of them.

She smiled when she finished, thinking about how happy _she _would have been if someone had written down anything like that about _her _baby days.

When she finished with Christmas, she decided that maybe she could write a little bit about other parts of his life:

_The first place you lived was a boarding house. Well, no- the first place you lived was Green Gables, only you didn't know it because you weren't out yet. But after you came out, and you came home from the hospital, we stayed in a boarding house for about a month. I liked it there, but you didn't know anything about anything- you just ate and filled up your diapers and slept and fussed. I don't remember much about it, but I want you to know you were always by my side, and I never left you._


	123. Resolution

Anne liked her re-telling of Walter's second Christmas, and then she decided to write about his first Christmas, too. She spoke aloud as she thought about what to write:

"I know everybody else will say it doesn't _count _as your first Christmas because you hadn't even been born yet, and that your _real _first Christmas was the one we just had. ...But I counted last year as your first Christmas because you _were _there- you came with us to the Christmas Eve service- we just didn't _know _you had come with us. And you ate Christmas dinner, too. You just ate whatever it was _I_ ate that day. Let's see, what _did _I eat that day? Hmmm. You must have been _very _small, then...you were...seven weeks? Maybe? I think I'll look in those books Marilla got and see if there's anything that shows what you looked like at just those seven weeks. You must have been awfully tiny because we couldn't even tell you were there. I remember feeling positively _heartsick _during Christmas because I was _so _worried about being expect...um, I mean, I was _wondering _if I might be having a baby. Anyway, Christmas was nice, even though...you know, Matthew gave me a music box...I wonder if you could hear it when you were inside? If you could, then that's the first song you ever heard..."

Anne wrote the few nice things she could think of, and left out that she hadn't been happy to have him. He didn't need to know _that_, she thought, and she hoped that no one around her would ever tell him. She knew _she _would have been devastated if she found out no one had ever wanted _her_.

As soon as she thought she was done writing for the time being, a thought popped into her head:

"_Gilbert's father_..."

Anne stared at the baby. Then she grabbed her pen again and kept writing. She went on for several pages about how wonderful John Blythe was, and then concluded her passage with: "And that's who I named you after. That's why you're _Walter John._ I don't know anything about my father, Walter, or I'd tell you about _him_, too, but John Blythe is a very good person to be named after. He didn't get to meet you face-to-face, but he loved you already, and one time you kicked him- but not in a mean way; it made him happy."

"I wonder if _I_ was named after anyone?" Anne thought suddenly. Her mouth opened in surprise, this idea never having occurred to her before. "Maybe I had a grandmother or somebody named Anne! ...if I did, I hope she spelled it with an _E_. I wonder if she had red hair?"

When Anne had written all she could think of, she began stacking things up to put away. There was that envelope on the floor, and she assumed it went with Walter's birth certificate, but when she opened it to put the birth certificate inside, she found there was already a paper in it. She slid the paper out and opened it to see what it was.

_Miss Cuthbert,_

_If your words alone did not already prompt in me a sense of true remorse, my dear daughter Jane has turned my heart toward repentance. I feel I must tell you what I know to be true, and it is my hope that you will allow me a moment of your time in reading this..._

Anne slumped down against her bed, everything dropping from her lap.

_I feel it would be very brazen of me to ask for Anne's or your forgiveness, so I will not ask, nor do I expect to be given it._

_I want only to admit my guilt: I attempted to cover up what happened to shield my son from the blame he deserved. I wanted to make people believe that your daughter was lying, and once that proved unsuccessful, I tried to make people believe that she was at fault. I have been embarrassingly uncharitable to your family, all while pretending to be virtuous by offering money. I know, now, how wrong I have been._

_I feel compelled to tell you something else. This admission is difficult for me, but I cannot deny the role I played in making my son who he has become. Looking back over his childhood, I see so many instances in which I failed him- encouraging him to view others as inferior, allowing him to believe that the end justifies the means, expecting him to value his family's position more than valuing and respecting the dignity of others. His abusive behavior was ignored. When he behaved badly, I told myself he'd grow out of it. I did not understand that a child does not simply *grow out of* bad behavior- they must be *taught* good behavior. I failed as a parent, and my failure has caused pain for others, for which I am truly sorry._

_If I had it to do over, I would make so many decisions differently._

_Miss Cuthbert, nothing I say or do will erase the terrible memory Anne must live with, but I so wish there was something that could. I know only that I must do what little I can to ensure that I place no further burden on her- I will no longer act as if something was brought upon our family by Anne, when in truth it was our family who brought this upon Anne._

_I wish only good for your family, and I pray that your daughter will someday have some sort of peace in her life despite all the harm we have done. I am truly sorry._

_With my best regards, _

_Mrs. Andrews_

When Anne had finished reading, she slowly put the letter back into the envelope and shoved it underneath the pile of papers. She did not know what to think.

* * *

"Do you think people can change, Marilla?" Anne asked suddenly that evening.

Dinner was over, and she and Marilla had just finished washing the dishes. They were drying them, now, and Walter was in the parlor being held by Matthew while he read the papers.

"I think so," Marilla said, setting the teapot upside down on a kitchen towel. "And God wants us to forgive, of course."

Anne nodded slowly.

Marilla went on carefully, thinking about the letter she did not _know_ Anne had read. "But when a person forgives another person, it doesn't mean they have to let that person back into their life. ...I think a lot of times people misunderstand forgiveness; they think it means everything goes back to how it was."

Anne watched her.

"But that's not it. Forgiveness just means you've decided to release them from your anger. You can forgive someone but _still _insist they keep a distance...it's all right to have boundaries."

Anne nodded slowly.

"Marilla..." she finally broached. "There was a letter stuck in with Walter's things...in the desk..."

Anne watched Marilla intently. It seemed that Marilla froze just a split second, standing straighter, her face tight. "Oh?" she asked, as if unsure what Anne was talking about.

"How long did you have that?" Anne asked bluntly.

Marilla sighed, realizing she couldn't pretend _not_ to know. "Oh, she brought it over when she picked up Jane. I wasn't sure I ought to show you that, Anne."

Anne dried her last plate and set it softly down on the stack, and then set the stack back into the cabinet. "I don't know what to think. ...I feel sort of sorry for her, in a way. I think it must be worse to be on the side of the wrong, don't you?"

"I'll give you that," Marilla agreed. "It is worse to be on the side of the wrong." She draped her dish towel across the faucet to let it drip dry. "It sounds as if Mrs. Andrews knows that she didn't raise her son to be a good person. I think for a long time she couldn't accept that. Maybe now she does, and she feels a responsibility for the damage he caused. And I appreciate that. ...But it's not your job to ease her guilt- you don't have to forgive her."

"But I thought you said God wants us to forgive people," Anne pointed out.

Marilla was stuck- there was what she _believed _she ought to do, and there was what she _felt _like she wanted to do, and they were not the same thing.

"We _should _forgive," she said, reluctantly.

"Can you, Marilla?" Anne asked doubtfully. "I'm not sure _I _can."

Marilla was quiet. "I'll pray on it," she said softly. "And we'll see. ...I know I can't do it on my own."

Anne nodded.

"The christening gown, though..." Anne began. "She thought it was a peace offering?"

"I don't know...I took it as her wanting to insert herself into our lives," Marilla admitted. "It's a family heirloom...and I don't think it's appropriate for her to assume that Walter should be the recipient of their family heirlooms."

Anne nodded. "I can't bring myself to put it _on _him. I don't think I ever will..."

"You can give it back," Marilla reminded.

"I know," Anne answered, biting her lip. She felt funny giving it back. She'd rather push it under the bed or high up in a closet and ignore that it even existed.

"He'll soon outgrow it," Marilla pointed out. "Even if you keep it, they'll never see him dressed in it."

Anne was thinking.

"As for her letter, she doesn't expect any reply, and you needn't give her one," Marilla said.

"I _do _want to reply, though," Anne said, her voice changing. "There are things I want to say to her, and it's only fair I get my chance to say them."


	124. The Balance of Power Shifting

Mr. Harmon Andrews was not happy to find that his wife had changed her outlook on Anne.

"I can't help but think we didn't try hard enough to discredit that girl's story," he muttered.

"We _did _try," Mrs. Andrews said tightly. "But Billy _admitted _what he did, with the Cuthberts' sitting right here in this room!"

"We could have said he confessed to it under _duress_," Mr. Andrews argued. "It shouldn't have counted. If we'd been _firm _about it- and if we'd done more to make people understand that the girl's story shouldn't have been taken _seriously-_"

"Harmon," Mrs. Andrews tried to say, but Mr. Andrews kept going:

"Who knows how many boys she's been with! _Billy _didn't have to be involved-"

"_Harmon,"_ Mrs. Andrews interrupted, louder this time. Then she shook her head, and with her voice, unsteady, she explained: "You haven't seen the baby but from far away. ...If you _saw _him any closer, you'd _know_...there is just _no denying_ Billy is the father of that baby."

There was a quiet moment as Harmon stared at her.

"It's true," she told him. She finally rubbed her temples as if she felt a headache coming on. "Anyone who sees him will know it in a heartbeat! And I'm not interested in saving face anymore; she's had a bad thing happen to her, and it's our son who caused it. We ought to be doing more for her."

"_More_ for her?" Mr. Andrews asked in surprise. "We paid the rent. We paid the doctor. We paid the hospital. We paid for that thing she needed to feed it. Not to mention the godawful settlement you gave her, which I will _never _understand!"

"It was _my _money, Harmon," Mrs. Andrews said, her tone harsh. "That was money left to me by _my _father and you've no right to interfere in how I used it. And frankly I'm not sure it was _enough_."

"That's why you gave it-"

"_Him_," Mrs. Andrews said icily. "Not _it_, him."

"_Him_, then," Mr. Andrews threw out offhandedly. "That's why you gave him something that you _should _have been saving for our _grandchild_."

"He _is _our grandchild!" Mrs. Andrews snapped. "Whether you like it or not, he _is!_ And I'll never have a moment of peace, _knowing _he's out there and not being allowed to _see _him! But that's what's been done to us, Harmon! By our own son! Billy put _our _first grandchild into the world and he did it in such a way that we'll be cut off from his life forever!"

Mr. Andrews asked, "What on earth do you want to do with them now?"

"Whatever they'll let me," she said simply.

* * *

"The algebra tests came back," Gilbert said to Anne as they all sat down at the table that afternoon.

"You got the highest score, didn't you?" Anne asked cheerfully. She was always going to be unhappy that she couldn't continue with school, but she was proud when Gilbert did well. Her love for him was making it possible to be more cheerful about his success than bitter about not having her own.

But Gilbert shook his head. "I didn't, actually. Someone else scored two points higher than me."

Anne was shocked. Instantly the classroom flashed across her mind, trying to imagine which of them could have beat Gilbert for the high score. "Who was it?" she asked.

"_You_," Gilbert said with a mysterious smile.

"Me?" Anne looked back and forth from Gilbert to Miss Stacy. "But I don't count."

"You certainly _do _count," Miss Stacy told her, still smiling.

"...I don't understand," Anne said, shaking her head. "You mean I did better than Gilbert, but that doesn't mean I scored the highest in the class...I'm not _in _the class."

Gilbert and Miss Stacy looked at each other.

"You sort of are, in a way," Gilbert said with a smile, looking to Miss Stacy to explain. "Miss Stacy had a thing or two to tell the school board."

Miss Stacy shook her head at Gilbert, silently telling him not to say such things. She explained, "I felt it was ungenerous of the school board not to make any special consideration for your circumstances. I simply asked them to reconsider."

"And they said they wouldn't," Anne said flatly.

"They said they would not allow you to _attend_," Miss Stacy said slowly. "The exact word they used was _attend_." She smiled conspiratorially. "And I said, _'what about if she __**doesn't **__attend?_ We...went back and forth a bit...but the school board eventually agreed to a _compromise_ of sorts."

Gilbert watched Anne, caught between two thoughts- one, that Anne's hopes wouldn't go up, thinking she could go back to school, and two, that this idea would make her feel better and not worse.

"But how did you..."

Miss Stacy went on: "I asked them a question: What is their main concern- did they believe that an unwed mother should not _learn_, or did they believe that an unwed mother should not be alongside the other _children?_ They had to admit it was the latter. And to that I responded, then she ought to be granted the same chance to learn, _without _being alongside them. ...After all, suppose a student is chronically ill and becomes too frail to attend school- is a teacher not allowed to take the student on as a home study, so they may continue to learn? It should be no different for you! They agreed to consider you a home study student."

Anne was slow to reply, not sure how happy to let herself be. "So...when I do school work, it...it _counts?_"

"I am allowed to list you as _enrolled_. You will do the same work as those in class, and I will record your grades in my gradebook right alongside theirs. If there is some sort of contest regarding grades- the highest math score, for example- you will be in the running as well, as long as the contest does not require class participation. You may do exams at the end, the same as everyone else. You will be issued a certificate as well."

Anne was just staring at her.

Miss Stacy looked a bit sad to say, "You still cannot attend class, and they've forbidden me from having you at school functions- no field trips, no picnics and the like. You _will _graduate, but you won't be allowed to attend graduation. I'll bring your certificate to you personally." Miss Stacy did not tell her that a letter was being sent to parents informing them that Anne would be counted among test score placement but promising them that she would not interact with their children during school hours.

Gilbert spoke up quickly, "We'll have a party for you. That will be _better _than a graduation. Miss Stacy can give you your certificate at your party."

Miss Stacy looked kindly at him, knowing how much he wanted Anne to be happy.

Anne finally found her voice, and her words tumbled out: "But...but I _will _graduate- I'll really be counted as _graduating _from school? _Officially_? On _paper_?"

Miss Stacy nodded, beaming.

Anne threw her arms around her.


	125. Done

Note- this chapter is called Done but the story is not done, just to clarify- it's not the end

* * *

Mrs. Andrews did not expect to find Anne and Marilla on her front porch in the middle of the day.

Or at all.

"Uh- come in," she said, her face showing her surprise.

Anne felt sick to her stomach, but she told herself to be confident because she knew she wanted to have her chance to speak face to face.

Marilla had not wanted this meeting to happen, but she agreed to it at last because it was what Anne felt was necessary, and this situation was about her, after all.

Mrs. Andrews led them into the parlor, her hands twisting together in nervousness. She kept glancing around as if she needed to make sure the room looked tidy, as if that mattered to anyone.

She gestured for them to sit down, which they did, and then Mrs. Andrews cleared her throat and asked, looking self-conscious, "I put tea on, and...it's ready. I don't suppose you'd like to have it..."

Marilla looked to Anne, as if needing her to make all the decisions at this strange get-together.

Anne nodded slightly.

"All right," Marilla told Mrs. Andrews.

When Mrs. Andrews had left the room, Marilla turned to Anne on the sofa beside her and said, "You mustn't feel you _have _to speak to her."

"I know," Anne murmured.

"We can turn right around and go home," Marilla said briskly.

"No," Anne said softly.

Marilla went on, her voice business-like, "It isn't necessary for _you_\- whatever you want to say, _I_ can tell her myself. Or you could write. You needn't _sit _here with her, you know."

"Marilla, I'm all right," Anne finally spoke up more firmly.

Mrs. Andrews came back into the room carrying a tea tray that was rattling. She reminded Anne of a frightened young maid on her first day of work.

"I hope this is suitable," she said, attempting to sound friendly but too afraid to meet their eyes. "Do you like gingersnaps, Anne?"

Anne tried to say something, but felt like she couldn't speak, and just nodded. Marilla was watching her carefully. Anne tried to sound more confident: "I do, yes."

The three of them began their tea in an awkward silence.

Anne had the cup to her lips when suddenly it occurred to her that she was sitting in Billy's house and Billy had likely- at some point- had that very cup in his own hands, being brought to his mouth- and she couldn't drink it, no matter how many times it had been washed.

She set it down gingerly on the table and said, "I'm finished with my tea, thank you."

Marilla and Mrs. Andrews glanced at her and her completely full tea cup, and then Marilla said, "Perhaps we should go-" thinking that Anne was upset and regretting her decision to come here.

"No," Anne said a little too loudly. "I wanted to come here. I have things to say."

Mrs. Andrews looked to Anne just like a mouse trapped with a cat. Anne sat up straighter, realizing she had all the power in this room.

She thought that it would make her feel better, but it didn't. Finally she began again, "Mrs. Andrews..."

Mrs. Andrews' face was caught between cringing and attempting to appear accepting. When Anne trailed off, she could do nothing but wait.

"I read your letter," Anne continued, "And I want to tell you that I'm glad you wrote it. It...it couldn't have been easy for you."

Mrs. Andrews gave a breathless little nod. It was not what she was hoping to hear- Anne had _not _said she was forgiven; she simply said she was glad she'd written it. There was a difference.

Anne did not say anything for such a long time that Marilla said, "Are you ready to go, then?"

Anne shook her head.

They waited for her to continue.

Anne said, slowly, "I think it would be nice if...if we could all exist in this town...side by side. If when we _see _each other- in town, or in church, as we _invariably _will- that we might say _hello _or good morning, or we might even smile, _instead _of hiding or leaving or turning our heads away or noses in the air. ...And that after passing each other by, then we would each move on with our own day, with our own lives- instead of that brief meeting _ruining _the day for us both of us. I'd like that. I'd like for there to be no _animosity_. It isn't that I feel we can be friends, exactly. But I want life to be _easier_. And I feel that if we can come to...sort of a- a peace agreement- of being _acquaintances_\- then no one would have to feel unwelcome in their own hometown."

"I think that would be nice as well," Mrs. Andrews said quietly.

"All right, then," Anne said, sitting up straight, looking at Marilla as if ready to go. Marilla looked back at her, a silent conversation happening, and then the two of them stood up together.

Mrs. Andrews felt the visit had been extremely short with not much to it, though at the same time it was excruciatingly long and she felt ready to break from nerves.

She walked them to the door.

As they began to leave, Anne turned back. "I, uh...I still have the christening gown. I thought about giving it back, but then I didn't bring it with us."

"All right," Mrs. Andrews said slowly, unsure- did this mean Anne would accept it, or...? She did not know what to think.

Marilla spoke up, asking Anne, "Perhaps you'd like to bring it another time? Or send it back with Jane?"

Anne hesitated. "Well, I don't know. I'll ask him if he wants to keep it. If he does, I'll allow it."

Mrs. Andrews did not know how to react to this- how did Anne think her six month old baby would decide if he wanted to keep something? But she could not ask.

"Mrs. Andrews," Anne addressed her, "I-" she took a deep breath. "I want you to know that I don't blame you for B- for him acting the way he did. I know that the people who raised you do _matter_, but I also know that...that a person has it inside them to know right from wrong, to- to _choose _to be kind- and to make the world a brighter place. Even if they _weren't _brought up well. So he...he made a choice. And I don't blame for _you _for the choices he made."

Mrs. Andrews could have cried, and Anne thought she was going to.

Before stepping through the door, Anne had one more thing to say: "As for the way _you _treated me, I _was _angry...but I've decided not to be. It's too much of a burden to walk around with anger. ...I want to be happy."

"I want you to be happy, too," Mrs. Andrews ventured to say.

They all stared at each other a moment. Finally Marilla shivered in the chilly air and said, "Anne, we're letting the cold into the house. Let's go so Mrs. Andrews can close the door."

"Actually," Anne disagreed, staring at Mrs. Andrews, "I think the cold is leaving the house. ...I hope that Jane feels it leaving, too."

Mrs. Andrews just nodded. Her eyes were dewy.

Marilla watched Anne climb up into the buggy after the door had been shut and they were alone again. "That went quite a bit different from how I thought it would," she commented.

"It went different from how _I_ thought it would, too," Anne said, surprised at herself.

She pulled a piece of paper from her coat pocket and unrolled it. There was a list- a very _long _list- of all the things she had _planned _to say to Mrs. Andrews- _none _of them forgiving or kind.

She shook her head and pushed it back into her pocket. "Things came out changed, somehow."

"You're a better person than I am," Marilla said more to herself than to Anne. "I had quite a few things to say, but I held my tongue for you. I figured you'd say them yourself. But you didn't."

"I don't know what came over me," Anne said, taking a deep breath of the winter air. "But I'm glad it's over! I'm just so tired of having _animosity_. I feel as if we've all been _imprisoned_ by each other! ...My, doesn't the air feel crisp and invigorating?"

Marilla looked at her, smiling inwardly.


	126. Cozy

"Marilla, can I go over to Diana's?" Anne asked.

"You may," Marilla replied pleasantly enough. "But don't accept any dinner invitations, I want you back before it's dark."

"All right," Anne agreed. But she didn't leave. She stood watching Marilla, who was testing Walter's bottle.

"Maybe I should stay..." Anne said reluctantly. She _so _wanted to go see her bosom friend, but it wasn't fair for her to go off and… "Or maybe I should take Walter with me."

Marilla raised her eyebrows at that. "Unless Mrs. Barry specifically _invited _Walter, you're not taking him."

"But-" Anne began.

"No buts," Marilla warned. "If you want to keep seeing Diana, you musn't _pester _Mrs. Barry! ...Anyway, it's too cold out for you to bring him through fields of snow. I wouldn't let you take him even if she _did _want him there."

"All right," Anne agreed sadly. She poked at Walter's feet in his booties. But Walter was not paying any attention to her; he was staring up at Marilla.

Anne finally left the room.

Matthew caught her in the doorway, nearly bumping into her.

"What is it?" He asked, seeing her face.

Anne said in a small voice. "I don't like leaving him...it's just not fair for _Marilla._ She takes care of him so _much_..."

Matthew turned back and glanced at Marilla.

Marilla was now sitting in the rocking chair with Walter, his bottle in his mouth. She was singing softly to him, too softly for Matthew and Anne to hear.

"She don't look put upon to _me_," Matthew stated with an amused look to Anne.

Anne couldn't help but smile.

* * *

She enjoyed the afternoon at Diana's.

Diana, however, would have preferred to spend the day at Anne's, because that's where the baby was.

Diana still seemed to consider Walter to be something like a doll and he was there to be dressed up and played with. Anne knew that wasn't at all what it was really like to have a baby, but she was pleased that Diana took such delight in him.

Happily, Mrs. Barry agreed to let Diana come to Green Gables next Saturday morning and stay all day.

Both girls hoped Mrs. Barry might eventually allow Walter to come to her house, but Anne decided Marilla was right when she said not to try for it. Mrs. Barry wasn't one to be trifled with. If Anne pressed her buttons, Mrs. Barry might only dig her heels in.

* * *

When Anne returned home from Diana's house, she called out hello to Marilla who was down in the cellar retrieving preserves.

"Did you have a good time?" Marilla called from below.

"Yes," Anne called back happily. "Thank you. Mrs. Barry gave us raspberry tarts and Diana played the piano and we sang and sang and sang and then Minnie May came running in and she said she thought a _cat _must have gotten stuck in the trellis because of the noise and we laughed and laughed- Marilla, we didn't sound _that _bad! Mrs. Barry told Minnie May that she knew perfectly well there'd been no cat stuck in the trellis and that she was being awfully rude about our singing and that if she didn't have anything nice to say then she shouldn't say anything at all. You know, Diana really _is _a good singer, Marilla. She's so lucky she can play music and sing all the time. At Christmas she got new sheet music and-"

"Anne, I can hardly hear you. Wait until I come back up," Marilla called to her.

Anne shrugged. She picked Walter up and hugged him. "I missed you," she said, surprising herself.

He began babbling, happy to be picked up by his mama.

"Did you miss me, too?" Anne asked, smiling. She carried him into the parlor and sat on the floor with him.

"Look, Diana taught me a song," Anne told him. "This didn't come from her sheet music. She saw it in a magazine. It isn't a nice song, and you're supposed to sing it loud and snappy. It goes like this: Five nights ago, when we were all in bed, Mrs. O'Leary took a lantern to the shed. And when the cow kicked it over, she winked her eye and said, It's gonna be a hot night in the old town tonight, fire, fire, fire-"

"Lovely tune," Gilbert said, amused.

Anne turned around in surprise. "Gilbert!" She blushed. "I didn't know you were here."

Gilbert came into the room. He reached out and grabbed Walter's hand, smiling at him.

"Miss Cuthbert let me in earlier- I came by and she said you were at Diana's but you'd be home soon so I ought to just come in and wait. She asked me to dinner. I was out in the barn talking to Matthew."

"I'm glad you're staying for dinner," she told him. Since no one else was around, she kissed him. He kissed back.

When they separated, they smiled at each other- and then kissed _again_, relishing the few seconds they had alone.

Well, not _quite _alone- Walter finally smacked Gilbert in the cheek and they broke apart.

"Uh oh," Gilbert said. "I upset our chaperone."

But Walter reached toward Gilbert, wanting him as he always did. Gilbert took him up in his arms and held him.

Anne watched the way Gilbert's eyes changed whenever he was with the baby. She smiled.

"I'm glad you're friends with Matthew," she told him after a moment.

"He's been there for me," Gilbert said simply. "He's a good man."

"He likes you, too," Anne told him. "He doesn't always say everything out loud, but I know he thinks a lot of you. ...Did you know he talks to Walter about the cows? He doesn't do it when anyone's around, but sometimes when he has Walter I hear him. He's given them names just so that Walter will be able to tell them apart." Anne smiled, a mixture of love and amusement.

Gilbert laughed. "This little one's tied _everyone_ around his finger, hasn't he? ...What about it Anne- things seem better for you now…?"

Anne looked at Walter. "I still don't think he's cute. Aren't I horrible? Everyone _else _does."

"Do you love him?" Gilbert asked hesitantly.

"I do," Anne said, feeling peace. "I _really _do."

"Then it doesn't matter if you think he's cute or not," Gilbert assured. He reached for her hand, their fingers laced together. He pulled her hand up and kissed it. "I'll think he's cute for the both of us."


	127. Gilbert With Us

Gilbert followed Anne into the kitchen, and while Gilbert held Walter, she laid the table for dinner, setting out an extra place since Gilbert would be joining them.

"I wonder what we're having," she said curiously, opening a pot on the stove. "Mmm, I thought it smelled like beef stew!"

Gilbert smiled. "Do you remember how much you obsessed over beef stew when you were expecting?"

Anne remembered. "I guess _you _just really, really wanted beef stew to eat, didn't you?" she smiled at Walter in his arms.

"Well, I suppose you could try a little now," Anne thought. "I read in one of those books Marilla got that you can try some real food at your age. Do you want to have some stew?"

Marilla was coming up the stairs with a jar of peach preserves. "Stew?" Marilla asked. "He can't eat that."

"Why not? The books said he's old enough to have a little real food along with his formula."

"Yes, but you can't start him out on chunky stew...don't you know that? You never fed the Hammonds' babies anything like that, did you?"

Anne shrugged. "I fed them, yes, but it was never my decision when they began eating or what they ate."

"Maybe you can let him try a little of the broth from it. That's all."

"All right," Anne said cheerfully. She got a bowl and used the ladel to dip out a little broth.

"Let it cool off all the way before you give him some," Marilla warned worriedly.

"I will," Anne told her.

"And don't give him a spoonful," Marilla kept right on worrying. "Just put the tiniest little dab on your finger and put it on his tongue. Or maybe not even that. Dab it on his lip and he can taste it that way. I'm afraid if you put a spoonful in his mouth he'll choke. He's never had food before, remember, and it might be too much. And make sure it's cooled off! Be very _careful_."

Anne and Gilbert smiled at each other over Marilla's fretfulness. "I will, Marilla," Anne said, appeasing her.

Anne thought of something. "He could eat potato from the stew, couldn't he? It's already soft from soaking in the heat. I could mash it up."

Marilla still worried. "Well, I don't know. Maybe."

Anne put the potato back, deciding it wasn't worth it to cause Marilla to have to deliver another lecture over how to serve a potato.

"Now leave that broth out until we eat. That way it'll be completely cooled off by then."

Marilla left them and went to ring the dinner bell for Matthew to hear out in the barn.

As soon as Marilla had gone to the porch, Anne and Gilbert leaned in to share a kiss again.

"This is _wonderful_," Gilbert told her, their faces still inches apart- _Anne smiled_\- "I'm so glad I get to be here to see his first real food."

Then Anne laughed. "Oh, thanks a _lot_, Gilbert."

Gilbert laughed, too. "_This_ is wonderful, _too_," he said giving her another kiss.

"Good, I'm glad our kiss is almost as wonderful as a sip of cold broth," Anne said dryly.

Gilbert laughed again.

Walter made noises as if to laugh along with them.

They both looked at him, hugging him together. "I'm glad he likes you so much, Gilbert," Anne said to him. "He's a good judge of character."

They smiled softly at each other.

But then Gilbert moved away. "Better not be so close when they come back in," he mouthed to her.

Anne nodded, almost having forgotten that Matthew and Marilla would be in in just a moment.

She looked at her baby. "I _wish _I could think he was cute, I really do. I feel just terrible about it- what kind of mother thinks her baby isn't _cute? _ But- oh, it would be so much _easier _if he didn't look so much like..._Billy_...I can't _not _see it."

Gilbert looked surprised. "You think he looks like Billy?"

Anne frowned. "You don't?"

"No," he said, lying through his teeth. "I don't see a bit of Billy in this little guy. No, he is one hundred percent Anne. Aren't you little guy- you're your mama's baby, aren't you?" He tapped Walter on the nose, making him giggle.

Anne shook her head. She knew Gilbert was lying, but she loved him for wanting to make her feel better.

Anne had never known anyone who was related to her. She always wondered what it would be like to have the strange sensation of looking into a mirror when you look into the eyes of another person- what it would be like to see bits of herself, the way other people might have the same hands their father has, or the dimpled cheeks of their mother? And maybe, she hoped, these connections would help _endear _the baby to her.

But it hadn't worked out that way- this baby seemed to have none of her physical characteristics, and though she had to admit she was glad he wasn't burdened with her red hair, she wished she could see _something _of herself in him. There was nothing.

His face made it absolutely impossible to forget who his father was.

Anne shook herself out of these thoughts as Matthew and Marilla came in, ready for dinner.

After sitting down and a quick prayer- Anne and Gilbert considering prayer a nice opportunity to hold hands without being looked at suspiciously- they began to eat.

Anne held Walter on her lap; now that he could try a little food, he'd join them at the table. Previously, she had set him down on a blanket on the floor with a toy during their meals. Following Marilla's request, Anne put the tiniest bit of broth on her finger and placed it at his mouth. The strange sensation of something other than formula startled him. But a moment later he made a face and spit.

They all laughed.

"What happened?" Anne asked him, wiping his mouth. "You used to _love _beef stew! You always wanted _me_ to eat it!"

She pulled a piece of potato from her stew and mushed it up with her spoon.

"Oh, Anne, make sure it's cooled off!" Marilla exclaimed.

"It is," Anne told her. She put a small amount of mashed potato to his mouth.

He again made a face as the new experience startled him. But the potato met with his approval, and he made happy noises.

They all beamed at him.

Anne gave him a little bit more. Then she tried some of the broth again. This time Walter received it happily.

"I guess he just needed a minute to get used to it," she said to the others as he ate the broth.

Then he wanted more.

"So he can stop using formula?" Gilbert asked, watching the baby delighted by his new discovery.

"No, he'll have to have that, too," Anne said. "The books said they overlap. I'll put a pot of water on the stove now while we're eating."

As soon as the pot was heating, Anne sat down again. "_Mmmm,_ I _love_ russet potatoes! This stew is _delicious_, Marilla!"

"It _is_, Miss Cuthbert- thank you for inviting me," Gilbert told Marilla. To Anne, he said, "I like russet potatoes too. But the carrots are my favorite."

Anne made a face at him, and Gilbert smiled.

Dinner was good, and Gilbert enjoyed the pleasant company of Anne, her baby, and the Cuthberts, soaking up all the warmth and joy of their home, in no hurry to go back to his own.

* * *

"Look, Walter," Anne said after dinner. They were sitting on the floor on a blanket with Walter's toys and books. "This is red," she said, holding up his stuffed tomato. "And this is green," she held up the felt leaf.

Walter did not yet understand colors, and only reached toward the toys with the intention of putting them in his mouth.

Finally Anne let him have them.

"He can't do that yet, Anne- he doesn't understand colors," Marilla pointed out. She was sitting in her rocker, knitting a sweater for Walter.

"That sweater is brown, Walter," Anne continued, not paying any attention.

"It's brown _and _green, Walter," Marilla added, a bit of teasing Anne.

"He _does _understand colors already," Anne announced. "And numbers, too. He's going to be very smart."

"How do you know he understands numbers?" Marilla wanted to know.

"He just _does_, that's all," Anne explained, without actually explaining anything.

"All right, then," Marilla agreed. Marilla, Gilbert, and Matthew all smiled at each other, each of them amused by Anne.

_Walter is going to love school, and love reading, and learn a lot, and be very smart… He may look like Billy, _Anne thought, _But I'm going to make sure he's not dumb like Billy!_


	128. To Add

Gilbert came into the room as Walter was chanting happily, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-"

But there were only three apples.

"Well, I'm glad you know what order the numbers go in," Anne said almost sarcastically. "But you can't just say the numbers, you have to actually _count_\- here, touch each one when you count; that way you won't count the same apple twice."

She moved his hand to place it on one apple.

"One, two," Walter said again, touching each apple. "Three."

"Good," Anne said, finally happy with him. "Now we're going to add them." She put those three apples on one side, and then on the other side she put two new apples.

"_Now_ how many apples are there?" she asked pleasantly.

"One, two, three," Walter said, putting his finger on each apple. Then he turned to the other apples and started again: "One, two."

"No...Walter, _no_. That's not how you add. You count them _together_," Anne was saying, frustration in her voice. "Now try it again."

Walter counted the apples the exact same way.

Anne sighed. She moved the two sets of apples closer together so that they were in one group instead of two. "Count them again," she said.

This time he counted them together, but he had already forgotten to count each apple only once and came up with eight.

"There aren't eight, there are only five," Anne said, her frustration clearly showing. "You _just _counted five, can't you see I haven't put out any new ones?"

"Anne," Gilbert said quietly. "Maybe you should stop and let him play."

Anne looked at him and was about to say something, but Gilbert, responding to what she had not even said yet, told her firmly, "Take a break."

Anne pushed the apples away, still aggravated, and pulled Walter down from the kitchen chair where he sat.

"Go on," she told him with a dismissive wave.

Gilbert caught Walter up in his arms and hugged him. "Let's go out and look at the ducks," he said kindly. He looked back at his wife. "Come with us, Anne."

Anne was still annoyed, but she got a piece of bread from the breadbox and followed them out.

Once at the pond, she broke the bread into small pieces and handed them to Walter, who began throwing them out into the water.

He laughed when the ducks gobbled them up. "_Hi, ducky,_" he called out, waving his arms at them. "Quack, quack!"

Gilbert reached out and pulled Anne close. She breathed out, feeling her frustration melting as she relaxed into him.

"It's so _irritating_," Anne said, discouragement weighing heavily on her

Gilbert shook his head. "Then stop. He's not even five years old yet. There's no reason he needs to be doing school work now."

"But I don't want him to start school not knowing _anything_."

"He _does _know things," Gilbert defended his son.

"Like_ what?_ That ducks go 'quack, quack'?" Anne again sounded uncharacteristically sarcastic.

Gilbert was sad to hear her tone. "Anne..._please_ stop this.'

Anne was surprised. "What?"

Gilbert thought about how to respond. Slowly, he said, "I can't help but notice you're so much more patient with other children than you are with Walter. Like Clara, you have endless patience with her, and she has no interest in math at all! You seem to...to have a _grudge _against Walter, almost, whenever he doesn't _understand _something."

Anne was defensive. "I want him to be smart. Don't you?"

Gilbert took a breath. "I want him to find out what _he's _good at, and do _that_. Maybe that will be school, and maybe it won't be."

Anne crossed her arms. "But he won't get _anywhere _without being good at _school _work, and going to Queens, and going on to a _university-_"

Gilbert put his arms around her. "That's not true. There are a lot of people who live happy, fulfilling lives whether or not they went to college. Matthew stopped going to school. He's a farmer. And...I just read an article the other day about baseball players- Anne, they're _paid _for playing _ball!"_

Anne didn't say anything.

"You know, Walter has a _lot _better coordination than other young children. Haven't you noticed that? There have been a lot of physical things _he _can do that other small children struggle with. And he has a good strong arm for throwing a ball- and he never misses a catch! Maybe _he'll _be one of those baseball players and he'll become famous for it. ...Look at him right now- other children just throw the bread into the water and let the ducks come to it. But _he's _throwing it to each individual duck to make sure they all get a piece, and look at his aim, Anne- he throws it right into their mouths, practically." Gilbert squeezed her. "Just let him be himself, darling- he'll find out what he's good at."


	129. A Valentine for Mama

Back to the current time.

The flash forward was to show you how Walter is bad at school subjects. Lol.

Anyway, after the valentines chapters, we will probably have a time jump of a whole year.

* * *

Before long, February was upon them, and Gilbert began to think of Valentine's Day. He and Anne had not celebrated Valentine's Day the first year they'd known each other, but they'd only known each other a short time then, and they'd been friends, but nothing more. Now, it was clear that while they were too young to court, they were in some sort of quiet relationship, so he felt free to think of what he could do to show her how much he loved her.

Beyond that, he wanted to assist Walter in giving his mama a present.

He thought of her birthstone- she always wore his gift now, hanging from the chain he'd given her on her birthday. Now that she was happily attached to Walter, he decided he would give Walter's birthstone to her for Valentine's Day. She could wear that on her chain, too. When Walter's birthstone came in the mail, Gilbert was happy with his purchase- and relieved that Walter had been born during a month whose stone wasn't outside his ability to buy.

While he was at the post office picking up the gift, he had an idea.

"Say," he said to the postal worker. "Do you have any more of those stamp pads I could buy?"

The clerk looked at him strangely. "We don't sell these- they're for official postal duty."

Gilbert nodded. "What about borrowing one, then? If I can't buy it?"

"Borrow it? Whad'ya mean borrow it? I'm not to let it leave the premises. This is official government property right here!"

Gilbert sighed. "What about if I used it right here- could I come in and use it right in front of you?"

"Suit yer' self," he shrugged. "Long as you don't interfere in official business."

"I won't," Gilbert promised. "It's just for...sort of a craft. Thank you."

* * *

"Could I borrow your baby?" Gilbert asked, knowing his question was funny and allowing it to be so. He smiled, his eyes twinkling conspiratorially.

"_Borrow_ him? What do you mean?" Anne asked in surprise.

"Just for a little while. He's going to help me with a project," Gilbert said mysteriously.

Anne didn't know what to say. "But where will he go?" she finally asked.

"It's a surprise," Gilbert said. "I can't tell you. But I assure you he'll be perfectly safe."

"Oh, I know," Anne told him. "I trust you. I just can't imagine why you'd want him for anything."

"_Can_ I?"

"He eats every three hours."

"We won't be gone that long," Gilbert promised. "It'll be quick, I promise."

"I...I suppose so. Can't I come?" Anne was holding Walter close.

"If you came, you'd spoil the surprise," Gilbert explained. He glanced around. "Do you still have that basket you used to carry him in? I'd try to drive while holding him on my lap, but it's so cold I'd rather have him in something."

Anne nodded, retrieving the basket from the pantry. She handed Gilbert the baby and went toward the stairs, calling back to him. "I need to get him some warmer clothes."

"We're going to make your mama a present," he said happily to Walter while Anne was upstairs.

Anne returned with an armful of fabric. She dumped everything on the kitchen table and motioned for Gilbert to set Walter down on it. Anne put warmer clothes on top of the clothes Walter was already wearing. Then, she pulled a sweater over Walter's head, and changed his booties out for thicker ones. She put booties on his hands, too. She then pulled some sort of quilted bag up over him, so that his lower body was enclosed in it. Then she wrapped him in another quilted blanket, lay him in the basket, and draped a softer blanket over the top of the basket to keep out the chill.

"All right," she announced. "He's ready."

Walter let out a wail. He tried to move and could not.

"I know you don't like being wrapped up," Anne said through the blanket. "I know you want to be able to move. But it's too cold. Stay put."

Walter cried.

"He's all yours," Anne said, pushing the wailing baby toward Gilbert.

"Gee, thanks," Gilbert said good-naturedly. "Hi, Walter...Anne, are you sure he can _breathe _in there?"

Anne nodded. "He can. All right, have fun."

Gilbert carried the basket out and placed it in the floor of the buggy so it would be held in place by his feet and not get jostled.

"Walter, I'm sorry," he said. "Mama wants you to be warm. And miserable. Don't worry. When we get into town, I'll...unroll you."

Gilbert had never driven with a baby before and he kept looking down as if worried Walter would disappear somehow.

Once in town, he lifted the basket out and went into the post office with it. He stamped his feet to get the snow off his boots and shivered as the heat hit him from inside; there were enough other people in the post office that the building felt warm just from being packed. Before he went up to the counter, he took Walter out of the basket and began to unwrap him. Walter ceased crying as soon as he was free to move his arms and legs. Gilbert smiled at him.

As he carried the baby to the counter, Walter on his arm and the basket carried in the other hand, he was watching Walter's reactions to his surroundings. Walter had never been anywhere but home and church, except for the hospital and boarding house, which he didn't remember, and the Warren's farm, which he'd rather not remember. He watched everything with interest.

Gilbert, still smiling, set Walter on the counter top. The postal clerk looked at the baby disdainfully.

"I'm here to borrow the stamp pad," Gilbert said cheerfully. "And I need to buy a blank card."

The clerk took his money and handed over the card, then said- gesturing toward the baby- "Would you kindly remove...that?"

Gilbert said, "I can't, I have to have him sit down." He began pulling off Walter's booties and mittens.

The clerk pushed the stamp pad forward and went back to his work.

Gilbert took it. "All right, Walter...let's see. How are we going to do this?" He'd brought a whole handful of handkerchiefs with him, knowing this would be a messy endeavor; now he got them out and set them down next to the baby. "Maybe we better do your feet first," he thought. He stuck Walter's foot onto the stamp pad. Walter laughed at the squishy feeling of it, then reached toward it, wanting to grab. "No," Gilbert said to him. He pressed Walter's foot onto the blank postcard.

Then he took Walter's other foot and repeated the process, this time doing the footprint overlapping the first one at the heel, so that the two feet together created a shape that resembled the letter "V".

Gilbert used a pen to write "L" and "O" on one side of Walter's "V", and then wrote an "E" at the end.

Gilbert wiped the baby's inky feet with a handkerchief, but knew they'd have to be washed. He hoped the ink would come off so Anne wouldn't be cross with him.

"All right, now we'll make the front of the card," Gilbert murmured. "This is the tricky part."

Gilbert needed to get ink on his own hand, but put it over top of the baby's and keep him from moving. He managed it, and when he lifted up his hand, there was an imprint of Walter's hand inside his own. He thought it looked really good. "Mama's going to like this," he said softly to Walter. "You did a good job."

Once finished, he wiped his hand as best he could and then wiped Walter's. He felt he hadn't planned for how dirty this activity was going to be, and figured he'd have to use a handkerchief to wrap around Walter's hand and then put his wrapped hand back inside his mitten. "We'll have to go wash," he said.

The postal clerk was looking at him.

"Thanks," Gilbert told him, handing the stamp pad back. "I appreciate it."

The postal clerk didn't say anything as Gilbert turned to leave.

Gilbert was standing at the door when he realized he'd have to roll Walter back up in all his layers before exiting the building. "Uh, oh, little guy, we better get you wrapped back up, hadn't we? Can't have you getting sick."

Gilbert set the basket down on the floor near the door and picked up Walter's many layers.

Before he got him all the way wrapped, the door opened and Mrs. Andrews was there. She stared at him a moment in shock and then swallowed. "Hello, Gilbert," she said uncomfortably. She seemed to be avoiding his eyes, but he could see her trying to look at the baby inconspicuously. "I hope you don't have him because Anne is ill," she said hesitantly.

"No, just looking after him for a bit," Gilbert said, trying to sound neutral. "Have a good afternoon."

He took Walter outside then, even though he wasn't all the way wrapped up yet, because he wanted to avoid any further conversation with Mrs. Andrews.

He could feel eyes, and when he turned back, he saw that she was watching them.

* * *

Gilbert decided he needed to go home and try to get all the ink off of Walter before he delivered him back to Anne.

Pulling up to his house, he said, "Welcome home," then he shook his head at himself, the words coming out without him realizing them. "Your _second_ home...your home-away-from-home. I hope you like it here."

He took Walter in, but didn't unwrap him this time, because his house was much colder than the Cuthberts.

He decided to heat a pot on the stove so that the water to wash off Walter's hands and feet wouldn't be cold. While waiting, he played peek-a-boo with Walter.

After a few minutes, the water was warm and he got the ink off.

"There you go, good as new. Mama wouldn't like you having inky hands and feet. Are you ready to go back to her now?"

But Walter had become interested in Gilbert's kitchen. As he looked around, a bright colored dish towel caught his eye.

Before Gilbert knew it, Walter was heading for the dish towel.

He had started to crawl.

Gilbert stared at him in disbelief. Delighted, he picked the baby up and praised him as much as if he'd just conquered Mount Everest.

Then a thought occurred to him- better not tell Anne she'd missed this.

* * *

"Where is Walter?" Marilla asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Anne said casually, teasing Marilla.

"You don't _know?"_ Marilla said, staring at her.

"I laid him down someplace…?" Anne said, acting as if she couldn't quite remember. "Hmm, I guess I ought to look for him. I haven't seen him in a while. Wal-_ter.._._Wal-_ter!" she called out.

Marilla was in a panic. "He's rolling over now, Anne, you can't leave him alone! Heavens, he could be _crawling!"_

"He isn't crawling _yet_," Anne reminded her.

"But he's _old _enough to! This could have been the first time! He could have crawled _away_ and- gracious, the cellar door is open, what if he fell!"

She ran to look down the cellar stairs.

Anne laughed. "Marilla, I'm sorry- _really _I am! He isn't lost. Gilbert took him somewhere."

"Gilbert _took _him?"

"Yes, he said he needed to take him someplace," Anne explained. "He said I couldn't go because it would ruin the surprise."

"But does he have nappies? Does he have bottles? Did you dress him warmly?"

Anne regretted teasing Marilla. "_Yes_, he's dressed warmly. Of course he is. And I didn't give him any bottles because he said he'd be back very soon."

"But what about nappies-"

"He'll be back _soon_, Marilla," Anne insisted. "I'll change him the minute he's back, I promise. I don't like him in a wet diaper either but he probably didn't even go yet. He hasn't been gone very long."

Marilla was looking out the window. She only breathed when she saw Gilbert's buggy coming through the snow.


	130. Valentines Day, and Anne's Birthday

"Oh, Gilbert!" Anne breathed. "It's...it's beautiful!" She lifted the peridot out of the box.

Gilbert smiled, watching her. "It's another birthstone for your necklace- Walter's this time. I hope the green won't clash with your blue one."

Anne took the chain off immediately and slipped the tiny peridot onto it. "Now Walter's will be right next to mine. They look wonderful together." She wrapped Gilbert in a tight hug. He hugged back.

After a moment Marilla cleared her throat.

Anne and Gilbert separated, each hiding a smile, blushing.

"Walter has something for you, too," Gilbert told her.

Anne and Marilla both looked surprised. "Does this have something to do with the day you 'borrowed' him?" Marilla asked.

Gilbert nodded, opening the book he'd hidden Walter's card in. He handed it to Anne.

"Love," she read on the front, seeing where Gilbert had written L and O and E. She touched the V and smiled. "Walter made the letter with his feet! Look, Marilla!"

Marilla smiled at the baby's footprints. "How nice, Gilbert. Now she'll always remember how little he was at this time. ...When he grows up, Anne, that'll be a treasure to you."

This made Anne emotional.

"Open it," Gilbert said.

Anne opened the card and gasped. She put her hand on the two handprints she saw- Walter's tiny one inside Gilbert's own. She got emotional all over again, her hand on her face.

Wordlessly she handed the card to Marilla. Marilla's first thought was that while sweet, it was odd for Gilbert to put _his _hand with the baby's. To Gilbert, she said, "How nice- two of Anne's favorite people, together." She smiled and handed the card back to Anne.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Gilbert whispered to Anne when they were alone again.

"It certainly is," Anne replied in a whisper, kissing him.

* * *

Anne's birthday on March 5 wasn't long after Valentine's day, so Anne told Gilbert she did not want him to give her any more presents- but instead, to simply spend the day together. She begged Marilla to let her go over to Gilbert's house. She hadn't been since the baby came home.

Marilla hesitated to agree to it, finally allowing Anne to go only if she brought the baby with her. Ordinarily, Marilla was perfectly willing to keep Walter while Anne did things with friends, but in _this _case she decided that having the baby in tow might be enough to prevent any intimate business. She didn't like to think Anne and Gilbert would do anything- particularly since Anne was so fearful of intimate relations- but she was not going to provide the _opportunity_, either. Anne was happy to go, and believed that Marilla only wanted her to bring the baby with her to provide Marilla with a day off.

Anne packed up Walter's bottles and nappies and some extra clothes in case his got dirty. When Gilbert came to pick her up, Marilla worriedly told them, "Keep the baby right with you. Don't put him in another room."

Anne said, "Don't _worry_, Marilla. I know how to take care of him."

_It's not him I'm worried about,_ Marilla thought. But she let them go.

When Anne came into the house, she saw that Gilbert had made an indoor picnic. There was a picnic basket next to a blanket on the floor, and a scattering of old _Tales of the Mystifying_ spread around.

"Oh," Anne said, surprised. "Did you want to read?"

Gilbert shook his head, smiling. "I just put them there to make it look the same as before."

"The same as before…?" Then it hit Anne. "Oh, _Gilbert_, our winter picnic! You're re-creating it."

He smiled bashfully.

"Now sit right there," he told her. "And I'm going to bring in our food."

Anne knew what he was doing- the aroma quickly filled the room, and then he came in with two steaming plates of pancakes.

"Confectioner sugar?" she asked, a dimple showing in her cheek.

"Of course," he said, leaning down to give her her plate. "With raspberry preserves."

Anne felt warm inside- until a look of sadness came over her. Gilbert followed her eyes over to his father's bedroom door.

He reached out and took her hand.

"I miss him," she said. "When we did this before, he was here. Remember? He was in his room- and he came out and when he saw that we were sitting here like this, he said he wanted to eat in his room….oh, Gilbert, he was just letting us be together! He saw how happy we were with _each other _and-"

"I know," Gilbert interrupted her, emotion in his voice. "But let's not be sad. Not today. Today is a happy day."

But saying _Today is a happy day_ only reminded him that those very words had been in father's last: _This is a_ _happy day. _He'd said it when he got the news about Walter being named after him.

They stared at each other, trapped in their shared grief, until Walter let out a loud, sudden sound: "Guh buh."

They both laughed. "Well," Gilbert said. "I suppose that's how life _is,_ isn't it? We say goodbye to people...and we welcome new ones." He reached out and grabbed Walter's chubby little hand in his own.

Anne smiled. "I know it's only coincidence, but it sounded just like he was trying to say Gilbert."

Gilbert smiled at the baby. "He _is_ saying it. Aren't you?"

"Gilbert, he's six months old. He can't try to say _anything_. He doesn't even know _what _he's saying!"

"Well, being _your_ baby, he's naturally very smart. He'll probably be saying all kinds of things long before any other baby can. And he'll be reading and writing while he's still in diapers…Walter, come on, show mama how you can talk."

Walter, as if he was following along with the conversation, said, "Buh."

"Almost, not quite there, try again," Gilbert coached.

"Guh-guh-guh-puh-guh-puh," Walter exclaimed loudly, waving his chubby little arms.

Gilbert was proud. "See? That was my name, clear as day. Practically perfect."

"Gilbert, that was all just a bunch of babble and you know it. No baby could _possibly_-"

"Would you just let me have my moment?" Gilbert interrupted.

They both laughed again.

But Walter's "guh buh" was _not_ coincidental, as Anne had said, and later- once Walter could talk- his first word would be for Gilbert.


	131. 15th Birthday to 16th Birthday

All right this chapter has a time jump. It moves from Anne's 15th birthday to her 16th birthday.

* * *

For Anne's fifteenth birthday, Marilla told her she could invite the girls over for a little party.

The girls enjoyed cake and cordial and they all fussed over the baby happily until Tillie commented, "I wish he looked like _you_, Anne. He looks like Billy."

_"__Tillie! _What did you say _that _for?!" Jane hissed, poking Tillie in the ribs. "You can't _say _that to her! It's _hurtful_."

Suddenly all the girls were quiet, each looking awkward and avoiding Anne's eyes.

Anne stared at them. Finally she sighed. "I _knew _he did! I just _knew _it. Everyone keeps _saying _he doesn't but they're just trying to keep from upsetting me! ...At least you're _honest_, Tillie." She looked unhappy.

Jane said, in an attempt to smooth things over, "Lots of times looks change as people get older! Even hair color can change!"

"That's true," Ruby said, her eyes big and serious. "Sometimes babies hair all falls out and then it grows back in again, in a different color."

Anne smiled, not at the situation, but at her friends trying to make the best of it.

"In any case, he _is _darling," Diana said, reaching out and patting his chubby cheeks. "What's it like to have him Anne? I mean to know he's _yours? _I'm always wondering what it must be like to have a baby of your own but I never really get to ask you anything about it, not with my mother to worry about. She might start to think I'm _too _interested."

Anne had to laugh at that.

"It's strange," she said. "There's never been anybody _related _to me before. He doesn't look like me, but...but it's strange, just _knowing _that I've got a blood relation. I've never had that in my life..."

"Does he fuss a lot?" Ruby wanted to know.

"Sometimes, but I know what he wants now. Certain cries mean certain things," Anne said, with an air of wisdom.

The girls' talk moved on to other things, and Tillie's innocent, but poorly thought out, comment did not ruin the event.

* * *

Walter's looks did not change, and one year later, he still reminded Anne every day of who he had come from.

But every night she told him all the stories her wild imagination gave to her, and he snuggled against her, his face hidden by her hair, and he fell asleep to the sound of her voice. _Guh-buh-guh-buh_, he would often babble as he fell asleep, making Anne smile. And every night she told him that she loved him.

She was determined that he would never, ever find out he'd started his life being unwanted.

* * *

Anne expected that on her sixteenth birthday, she'd feel something exhilarating. She did not expect to feel deeply offended.

Walter had babbled _Guh-Buh_ many, many times, but until this moment, Anne had thought it was only babble, because he appeared to be saying it randomly.

But today- on Anne's long awaited sixteenth birthday!- when Gilbert walked in, Walter began saying it while pulling toward him, and it could no longer be denied: Walter had learned a word, and knew how to use it.

"He should have said _my_ name first!" she complained. "Or, _Mama_, I mean. Why is he saying _other_ people's names before _mine?"_

Then her eyes changed and she asked, disheartened, "Do you think it's because I _left_ him? I bet he remembers being left at those people's farm! He thinks I didn't want him. Maybe he's mad at me. Maybe he doesn't _want_ to call me Mama."

"_Anne_," Gilbert said, shaking his head. "You're being silly. He doesn't even _remember_ you leaving him! And even if he did, he didn't understand what was happening. …You left him for all of what- maybe an hour? I bet you were back to the house before he even knew you were gone."

"He was awake on the train, but…when I left him, he was asleep, and he didn't wake up again until I came back..."

"See?" Gilbert told her, squeezing her to him. "That has nothing to do with anything."

"Then why doesn't he want to call _me?_" Anne said mournfully.

"The sounds _'guh'_ and _'buh'_ are easier for him to say, is all. The sound _mmm_ is harder."

Anne was not convinced.

Gilbert persuaded her: "That's why he hasn't said Mama _or_ Matthew or Marilla. It's all the _mmm'_s."

"Well…all right," Anne said grumpily.

Gilbert handed the baby to her. "He _knows_ you're his mama, and as soon as he figures out how to form the word, he'll _say_ it."

"Guh-Buh," Walter said happily, smacking Gilbert in the face.

"Walter, don't hit!" Anne said firmly.

But Gilbert wasn't put off by Walter's exuberance. He took him back from Anne, saying, "You _knew_ what you were saying _all along_, didn't you? All that time you've been saying _Gilbert_ and your mama thought you were just _babbling!_"

Walter's first word- or attempted word, as he knew he _meant_ to say Gilbert, but Guh Buh was as close as his baby mouth could come to the name- reminded everyone of how much time had passed by.

Gilbert couldn't help thinking of how their lives would change soon: This was the last year of school.

Miss Stacy had been preparing the class for Queens, and when this school year ended, it would be time for him to go.


	132. The Year

The last year of school had been challenging for both Anne and Gilbert. More so for Anne, who had to do everything at home while tending to a baby who was now perfectly mobile. Marilla, delighted that Anne did not have to give up the goal of a graduation certificate, was willing to keep watch over Walter crawling all over the house, and did not expect Anne to do her fair share of the housework.

But despite the long hours of school work- and no hope of going to college- Anne was pleased that she could keep learning and that her learning would _count_ for something. She knew she would be disappointed not to be allowed at graduation, but she was looking forward to having the certificate in her hands at last.

But it _had_ been a challenge to get back on track. She remembered that when Miss Stacy had first arranged for her to be back in the school roster, she had opened up her grade book and showed Anne what would have to be accomplished:

"Now, you're where the others are in your _learning_, but there are several assignments you haven't done. Before, I just asked you to do things whenever you had the time. But from now on, you'll have to do exactly the same work as the others, because I have to put a zero in my grade book if any specific assignment isn't finished, and I'll have to hold you to the same due dates that they get. Any late assignment will have a point penalty."

"Absolutely," Anne nodded, anxious to feel like part of a normal class again.

"These are all the assignments for the current school year," Miss Stacy said, showing her the grade book. She had added Anne's name to the bottom row, and Anne felt overwhelmed by all of the blank spots waiting to be filled with grades. "I'm afraid you have rather a lot of things you'll have to make up!"

"I'll get started right on it," Anne said confidently. She could not wait to fill every spot in the gradebook.

And _now_ she had.

There was very little left to be done, for Anne, but for Gilbert and the others, the work was really just beginning: The Queens' entrance exam loomed before them.

* * *

Anne felt that things were just slightly better for her in town.

"It's an _old _scandal now," Rachel once mentioned to one of her grown children who was visiting. "Not something new or gossiped about. Everyone knows, of course- though it isn't polite to speak of it _publicly-_ and people just feel _sorry _for her, poor girl. They feel sorry for the baby, too. No one's been unkind to her."

And it was true. Enough time had gone by that Anne was no longer mortified at the prospect of going into town with a baby in tow. She still wished she didn't have to, but she did it, and no one was rude to her.

Being a small town, living in separate spheres proved impossible, and the Andrews often heard bits of news about the baby from others in town. Very often comments were made about how he looked just like Billy.

Of course the Andrews saw the Cuthberts in church every Sunday, and though they were in a place where they could now smile politely and wish each other well, they did not attempt to get too close.

This meant that they did not often _get_ a glimpse of the baby who looked so much like their son, since they did not sit very near to each other and the baby almost always had a ruffled bonnet on at church, which hid his face a bit.

This was soon to change, though, when Mrs. Andrews nearly bumped right into Anne in a shop:

"Oh!" Anne exclaimed, turning from the textiles and running into Mrs. Andrews.

Mrs. Andrews began, "Pardon me-" and stopped speaking abruptly when she realized who it was she had run into. She said, almost embarrassed, "Oh...uh, hello, Anne."

Anne just nodded to her.

But Mrs. Andrews wasn't looking at Anne. Her eyes were fixed on the baby. She was seeing him up _close_\- close to his _face-_ and that was markedly different from seeing him at a distance.

Anne, seeing Mrs. Andrews eyes studying Walter's face so closely, scooped the baby closer to her body and moved her hand up protectively over his bonnet, pulling it close to hide his face. "Excuse me, I must be going," she said, quickly leaving.

Mrs. Andrews stared after her as she rushed away.

* * *

Mrs. Andrews went home but could not erase the baby's face from her mind.

"Jane," she began that evening as Jane read in the parlor.

"Yes, Mother?" Jane asked, looking up from her textbook.

"I wondered if you were going to see Anne this week," she began hesitantly.

"Probably tomorrow or the next day," Jane answered, noncommittal.

"Oh."

"What is it?" Jane asked.

Mrs. Andrews did not know what else to say, because she did not know why she was asking her daughter this. She struggled, yearning for something but not knowing _what_, exactly.

"Mother?" Jane asked again, when Mrs. Andrews seemed lost in thought.

"Oh...nothing. I just wondered."

Jane went back to her book.

"You know, Anne never sent back that christening gown," Mrs. Andrews suddenly thought of.

Jane stopped again, this time closing her book. "Did you want me to ask her for it?"

"No, no- it's hers to keep, if she _wants_ it," Mrs. Andrews said. "I just wondered if she ever _mentioned_ it to you. _Liking_ it, or…"

Jane shook her head. "She's never spoken of it again."

Mrs. Andrews nodded. "I suppose I wondered if she was all right with...with him having it."

"Mother, you gave that to her so _long_ ago. Why are you thinking about it _now?_ He's too big for it now; he's a year and a half old! ...He was probably _already_ too big for it when you first gave it to her. I don't think he's ever worn it."

Mrs. Andrews nodded slowly.

* * *

Jane began to feel uncomfortable with her mother. It seemed every time she came home from visiting Anne, she was peppered with questions about the baby. Mrs. Andrews wanted to know what he liked to do, what kinds of things made him laugh, what toys and books he had, and what he liked to eat.

Jane gave her mother the details she begged for, but she worried Anne would be angry with her if she knew.


	133. Explosion

"I'll drive you and pick you up today, I think," Mrs. Andrews said one day. "So you won't have to walk."

Jane was surprised. "That's all right, Mother. I'm used to walking."

"But what kind of mother have I been, making my daughter tramp through muddy fields," Mrs. Andrews said, brushing that off. "No, I must take you myself from now on."

"You don't normally drive the buggy yourself. Don't you want to let Father do it?"

Mrs. Andrews knew her husband would not approve of trips to Green Gables at all; he still blamed Anne for what their family had been through.

Mrs. Andrews, however, could not keep away. She could not foresee having any kind of relationship with the Cuthberts, but she felt drawn to the baby and wanted some way to be nearer. Perhaps if she could drive Jane, she might catch a glimpse…

* * *

And catch a glimpse she did.

When she came later to pick Jane up, she saw Anne standing in the doorway holding the baby.

She wasn't close enough to see anything more than a silhouette, and it wasn't nearly enough for her.

"Why did your mother come, again?" Anne asked, uncomfortable and stepping back into the house, away from the door.

"I don't know. She doesn't like me walking on my own anymore. I'll see you later, Anne. Goodbye, Walter." Jane hurried out to the waiting buggy.

Anne watched as Mrs. Andrews slowly pulled away.

Anne wanted things to be easier, and she wanted there to be no animosity between the two families. But she did not want Mrs. Andrews hanging around her house, either.

Right now, they were polite- able to appear friendly without being friends. And Anne wanted it to stay that way.

* * *

"What did you do with Anne today?" Mrs. Andrews asked.

Jane shrugged. "Just talked, mostly."

Mrs. Andrews was hungry: "Did you get to hold the baby?"

Jane just nodded.

Her ride home was uncomfortable.

* * *

"Anne, I think I ought to tell you something," Jane began.

Her mother was here to pick her up, and she'd waited until now to tell Anne what had been happening lately.

Mrs. Andrews had been pulling the buggy up closer and closer to the house each time she'd come, in hopes of a better view, and now it appeared she was going to come up to the porch to get her daughter.

Anne looked at Jane, surprised at the sudden nervousness in her friend's voice.

"My mother...has been asking about you. Well, about Walter. She's…interested in the things he's doing now."

"The things he's doing?" Anne asked. "He's a baby. He doesn't do anything."

She looked out at Mrs. Andrews approaching the house.

Jane went on, "She's always asking me questions. ...Would you be very upset to find out I've told her things?"

"Told her what?" Anne asked sharply, looking out the window at Jane's mother, who seemed to be hesitating at the porch step, afraid to come up and knock on the door.

"Just about what he does. What he likes. I told her about him walking, and what words he knows…"

There were a lot of things Jane had told her mother, but she stopped there, because she could already tell that Anne was angry.

"Your mother is waiting. You should leave now," she said, her voice hardened.

"Oh, Anne-"

"I don't want _your mother_ hearing about him! Why would you tell her anything _at all?"_ Then Anne shook her head, not caring about the answer. "I'm not letting _you_ see him anymore, Jane! _Ever!_ Every time you do you'll just run home and tell your mother every little thing he does! ...Tell her to _mind her own business_, or _our_ friendship is _over!"_

Jane looked wounded, but just meekly turned and left the house.

* * *

Anne was shaking with anger.

And then Walter took off.

"Aaah Jayyy," he wailed, toddling out the door in hot pursuit of her.

Mrs. Andrews stared at him, unable to breathe.

He was making his way down the porch when Anne came out, snatched him up, and, glaring at Jane, she stomped back into the house and slammed the door loudly.

Mrs. Andrews looked at her daughter. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Jane said softly, shutting her eyes. "Nothing."

* * *

"Did you have a nice time with Jane?" Marilla asked when she returned from Rachel's.

Anne was still angry. "No," she said. "I didn't! And I don't _ever_ want to see her again. If she comes over and you're here, tell her to _go away!"_

"I certainly won't tell her to _go away,"_ Marilla said, surprised. "What on earth is this all about? Jane's been such a friend to you!"

Anne's face was stony. "Not anymore."

Marilla came and sat down beside her. "Anne, what happened? Tell me."

Anne sighed. She'd been holding Walter on her lap for half an hour, ever since Jane left, and he was anxious to get down. He'd enjoyed being held for a little while, but his mama was holding him too tight and not letting him move. And she wasn't even talking to him or reading to him, she was just sitting curled up on the sofa, squeezing him. He was all done with being squeezed, and reached for Marilla to rescue him. Marilla pulled him from Anne's arms and set him on the floor. He toddled over to his picnic toy and began to play by himself.

"Jane's been telling her mother _things_," was Anne's harsh reply.

"What _things?"_ Marilla asked, concerned.

_"Things!_ Things about _Walter!"_

Walter looked up, hearing his name.

Marilla softened. "And you don't want her to. I understand, but what is she to do?"

"Tell her mother to _mind her own business!_" Anne said angrily. "That's what I told her she _should_ have said! It's as simple as that!"

"Would you tell _me_ to mind my own business?" Marilla asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Walter _is_ your business!" Anne said, dismissing that. "But he is _not_ Mrs. Andrews business!"

"You are missing my point," Marilla said firmly. "_Would_ you tell me to mind my own business?"

"No," Anne said, calming down.

"I should hope not, because it would be terribly impertinent," Marilla said. "Do you think Jane could say such a thing to _her_ mother, either?"

"Well, even if she doesn't say 'mind your own business', she could...she could say something like it, only less rude. She shouldn't be answering her mother's questions!"

Anne thought Marilla would be on her side- but she wasn't.

"I think Jane must be feeling rather stuck," Marilla pointed out. "Trying to be your friend, and trying to live with her family, too. ...She can't _avoid_ her family, so it would be much easier for her if she just stopped being your friend. But she hasn't."

"No, she hasn't," Anne admitted.

"And now she must lie to her mother- or, at least, she must somehow avoid answering to her mother?" Marilla shook her head. "Exactly how do you expect a young girl living at home with her parents to announce that she will refuse to tell them something they're asking her?"

"I didn't think of it that way," Anne admitted.

"...If you figure out an acceptable way for Jane to tell her mother to 'mind her own business', I'm sure she'll be glad. Until then, don't expect her to defy her mother."

Anne was grumpy, but she felt bad, now, for getting so angry with Jane. Putting herself in Jane's position, she could imagine how awkward it would be to sit next to your mother on a buggy ride home trying to avoid answering direct questions, or wondering if you ought to lie to your mother instead.

Anne sighed. "I guess I _was_ awfully hard on her."

Marilla stood up. "If she comes back, maybe you and she can work together- try to figure out some way to avoid your privacy being invaded, but without expecting her to make her home life any more stressful. ...Some sort of arrangement you can both live with."

"All right," Anne said quietly. "...I hope she'll come back."

* * *

Jane didn't come back for four days, and finally Anne asked Diana to deliver a message.

Jane read the message with trepidation:

_Jane,_

_I'm sorry I got so angry with you. Marilla pointed out to me how terribly difficult it must be to be in your shoes. How can you avoid answering your own mother? I suppose I can't blame you. Could we talk? If you'll forgive me for being so hateful to you. I don't really want you to never see Walter again, even though I said it. Marilla told me we ought to try to come to some resolution._

_All my love (truly)-_

_Anne_

Jane was there the next day.


	134. Anne is Direct

"You could say you don't know," Anne suggested. "Like if she asks what he wore today-"

"That would never work," Jane told her. "How could I _not_ know what he wore today? I've been _with_ him all day!"

"Oh. You're right."

Jane sighed. "Well then I just don't know what to _do_, Anne!" She was discouraged. "It isn't that I _want_ to tell her things you don't want her to know, it's just that I don't know how to get _out_ of it. If I tell her _'Anne doesn't want me to tell you'_, she'll _still_ bother me about it anyway!'

Walter was pulling on Jane's hair. Jane moved her hair to the other side, away from him. He reached around her to try to grab it again. Anne rolled her eyes and took Walter away from Jane in order to save Jane's hair. But Walter took that as an opportunity to pull on Anne's braids instead.

"Then go ahead and tell her," Anne finally said, giving up.

Jane stared at her. "I can't. You'll be upset with me."

"No, I won't. I don't know what to do, and I hate that everything is hard for you," Anne said softly.

"It's hard for you, too," Jane pointed out.

Anne got tired of Walter pulling on her hair, and set him on the floor. He crawled away from her.

Jane said, "He started walking about six months ago, didn't he? I wonder why he crawls sometimes."

"I guess he's tired of falling over," Anne said with a shrug. Then she smiled. "I read that the average toddler falls down seventeen times an hour! Maybe sometimes it feels more _efficient_ to get down on the floor and crawl."

That made Jane smile too.

Anne went to Walter and pulled his shoes off. "He might need new shoes," she said thoughtfully, looking at them. "They grow so fast, and if their shoes don't fit right anymore then they can't walk as well."

She came back and sat down on the sofa again, next to Jane. "I suppose I can cope with it." But she was unhappy.

Then she had a thought. She didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her before. "...She's not driving you here _just_ so you can avoid walking through muddy fields, is she?"

Jane shook her head, slowly. "I don't think so."

"Could you tell her that I don't _want_ her to drive all the way up to-" Anne stopped mid-sentence. "You know what? She keeps putting you in the middle, but _I'm_ not going to do that to you. _You_ don't have to do a thing- I'm going to go right out there and talk to her myself!"

"You don't have to do that, Anne."

"Yes, I do. Last night Marilla asked me if I wanted her to go talk to your parents, and I told her no, too."

Jane bit her lip, wondering how this was going to go.

When Mrs. Andrews came to pick Jane up, Anne did not hide in the house with Walter in her arms. Instead, she set Walter in his bed and, standing tall with her head up, she followed Jane outside.

Mrs. Andrews could not have been more surprised to see her. She was about to climb out of the buggy to go to the door, but now she stopped, wondering what Anne was going to say.

"Hello, Mrs. Andrews," she said.

"Hello, Anne," Mrs. Andrews replied.

"Mrs. Andrews," Anne continued after a pause. "I know I can't stop you from driving Jane here and picking her up, and if the muddy fields are truly a concern I can understand that. _But, _I _don't_ like you coming up to my house. If you're going to come here, you can stop in the drive and wait there. Jane and I nearly always sit in the parlor, so you needn't come up to the porch and knock on the door for her- we'll be able to see you from the window, and Jane will come out when she sees your buggy in the drive."

Anne spoke firmly- leaving no room for bargaining- and she was proud of herself for delivering her speech so confidently.

Mrs. Andrews seemed a little stunned with Anne's clearly laid out boundaries. She only nodded.

"There is another thing," Anne went on boldly. "If there is something you would like to know about the baby, kindly address your questions to me instead of expecting others to act as your _intermediary._"

Then Anne turned and walked away.

Anne felt shaky once she was inside the house with the door shut. She leaned back and breathed.

Then she stood up taller.

_I used to think I was a strong person. ...I didn't for so long, but I think I'm getting my strength back. I'm going to handle my own affairs and leave no room for misinterpretation!_


	135. Words and Carrots

"He said a new word today," Anne said happily as Gilbert came in.

"He did?!" Gilbert came right over to the baby in Anne's arms. Every new word was such _news_, Gilbert was so delighted he forgot to take off his coat or even set any of his things down.

Gilbert was happy, but then shook his head. "I miss _everything_."

Anne nodded sympathetically. "Well, you have to be gone during the day, you can't help that- you can't be with him every minute, the way I can. I _do _hate that you missed the first time he crawled _and_ the first time he walked, though. That was exciting, and I wish you could have been there for it."

Gilbert swallowed, remembering that _he _had actually been the one to see Walter crawl first. It had been at his house, when he took Walter away to work on his Valentine present. He had never told Anne she missed that moment, and he never would: He allowed her to believe that the first time _she _had seen him crawl _was _the first time he'd ever done it.

His voice bright, he moved on: "What's his new word?"

Anne nodded happily. "Say your new word, Walter."

But Walter didn't say his new word. He just reached for Gilbert, proclaiming, "Guh-buh!"

Gilbert laughed and took him in his arms.

"It was '_ball_'," Anne told him. "I said '_Walter, roll your ball to mama,_' and he rolled it to me, and when I rolled it back, he said..._Ball._"

Anne's face looked as if Walter had just been awarded a Baccalaureate. "Now he can say twenty-two words," she said happily.

"You know exactly how many words he can say?" Gilbert was amused.

Anne nodded. "Of course. I made a _list_."

"A list?" Gilbert asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Remember that book I started for him?"

What _Gilbert _remembered was that Anne had complained Marilla was forcing her to create a memory book for her unwanted baby, and that she had no desire to remember anything about this awful time in her life, and had actually muttered 'I can think of better uses for paper'_._

But Gilbert wisely did not remind her of that.

"Yes, I remember," was all he said.

Anne took the book out. It looked very different from how Gilbert remembered it. It seemed Anne cared a lot more than she used to.

In the beginning, the book was hastily cut and glued together and tied with ribbon, but all that was in it was Walter's birth certificate and his church record.

Now, the cover was decorated with pictures of flowers and cherubs Anne had cut out from a magazine, and the inside was full of her writing- it seemed she now had a written account of every moment of her baby's life.

Gilbert couldn't help wondering if Anne had gotten a little creative when it came to re-telling her story, in order to gloss over the parts where she spent several months being angry that she even had a baby, and wanting nothing more than for him to go away from her.

He felt sure there was no mention of the children's home she thought of leaving him at, or the Warren family she almost gave him away to.

And he himself would never speak a word of it: The only thing that mattered was Walter knowing how much he was loved _now_.

Anne opened the book and turned to a page in which she had started a list. Gilbert leaned in to see. "_Walter's first words_," it was labeled.

"Do you really write down every time he says a new word?"

"Of course," Anne said proudly. "And I write down the date, too, so I remember exactly when he first said them!"

Gilbert smiled at her, happy that she was happy.

"It would have been nice if his first word had been _mama_, instead of _Gilbert_," Anne said under her breath, "But one can't have everything."

"He said _mama _as soon as he knew how to," Gilbert promised, looking lovingly into her eyes.

Anne smiled back at him, and for a moment it felt like they were alone.

But Walter was pulling on Anne's braids again.

"He's always grabbing at my hair," she complained, coming out of the moment and pulling her braids from the grasp of his chubby little hands.

"It's cute," Gilbert smiled.

"It was cute. The first hundred times," Anne sighed.

But then a sly smile came upon her face and she said, "At least when _he_ grabs my braids, he doesn't say '_carrots'_."

"That will be his next word, then," Gilbert announced. "I'll teach it to him in secret."

"You wouldn't dare," she said, laughing.

"Oh yes I would," he said teasingly, scooping Walter up and looking into his little face. "Walter, say '_carrots'_. Carrots, Walter. Come on, you can do it."

"Give me back my baby," Anne demanded. "Walter, Gilbert is teaching you to say bad words. Don't listen to him."

"Carrots isn't a bad word," Gilbert laughed. "Carrots is the most beautiful word there is."

And he kissed her on her cheek.


	136. Walter

After church, Mrs. Andrews approached them.

Marilla and Matthew were both surprised; the two families had long been in an arrangement to "smile politely from a distance" and nothing more.

Anne was the first to speak:

"Hello, Mrs. Andrews," she said formally. She tried to sound confident; she wanted to appear to be in charge.

"Hello, Anne," Mrs. Andrews greeted her nervously. She was twisting her handkerchief nervously in her hands.

Marilla still had not said anything.

"I wondered if…" but she trailed off. She did not have anything _specific _to say- she just wanted to be able to come closer to them so she could see the baby.

"Yes?" Anne asked, holding Walter close.

"Uh...that's a nice outfit," Mrs. Andrews said finally.

They all looked at Walter in his pale blue clothes.

"Thank you," Anne said.

She waited.

"You're a very good seamstress," Mrs. Andrews said after a pause. It was really just a way to keep standing there.

"I don't do it all myself," Anne said stiffly. "Marilla helps me."

"That's nice," Mrs. Andrews commented.

Anne nodded.

"If you ever need any more help, I...uh, I really _enjoy _sewing," Mrs. Andrews offered. "Knitting, too. And I have _plenty_ of _time_, so I could…"

"You want to make clothes for him?" Anne asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Well, I just thought, I have lots of time, and…" Mrs. Andrews went on humbly.

"If I decide I need help, I'll let you know," Anne said, noncommittally.

Mrs. Andrews nodded, wanting a more concrete answer but knowing she'd have to accept Anne's response.

She kept standing there.

Marilla began, "Well, we'd better get the baby home, he'll need to eat soon," and she tried to press Anne ahead to get out of their pew and leave.

Mrs. Andrews spoke up quickly, as if trying to keep them from leaving: "He's eating more than usual, I bet, going through a growth spurt. Eighteen months now, isn't he? I remember…"

But whatever Mrs. Andrews remembered, she didn't say it. She stopped quickly, shaking her head.

They stood there another moment, no one speaking.

Mrs. Andrews bit her lip. She wanted to keep them here, but they were not making conversation and she was running out of things to say.

Anne, after a moment, filled the silence with a statement of her own: "He _is _growing, isn't he." And that was all she said.

But Anne responding encouraged Mrs. Andrews and she went on, "He has lovely hair."

Anne looked at his hair as if she had never noticed it before.

Mrs. Andrews tried something else: "Does he say very many words yet?"

Anne decided she would answer so that Mrs. Andrews would not try to get her information through poor, stuck-in-the-middle Jane. "He can say twenty-two words. His newest one is ball."

"What was…" Mrs. Andrews was dying to ask but afraid to.

"What?" Anne asked bluntly. "Mrs. Andrews, if you want to know something, go ahead and ask, because I don't want Jane to be pressed and bothered by you when she gets home!"

Mrs. Andrews blushed. Then she asked- quietly, humbly- "I wondered if you might be willing to tell me what his first word was."

Anne was happy to deliver this blow: "Gilbert," she said, her chin up. "His first word was Gilbert."

Mrs. Andrews glanced over to Gilbert, who was chatting with another parishioner in the last row.

She looked as if something had been stolen from her, but then sighed, her shoulders slumped. "How nice for him," was all she could say.

And then she made a hurried goodbye, somehow needing to leave quickly.

Anne shrugged and turned to leave. However Mrs. Andrews felt wasn't her burden to bear, and she went to find Gilbert so they could go home.

* * *

"Anne, what do you think you're doing?" Marilla asked sharply as she came into the room.

Anne stopped, startled, a pair of scissors paused over Walter's head. "What?" she asked innocently.

"With those scissors," Marilla asked, coming over to her to take a closer look.

"I'm giving him a haircut," Anne explained.

Marilla raised her eyebrows. "Have you ever given a person a haircut before?"

"Well, no," Anne admitted.

"Then you have no idea how to do it, do you?"

"Sure I do. You just cut it, that's all."

"Anne, you must know _how_ to give a haircut. If you don't, it'll come out all uneven and choppy!"

"Oh, I'm sure I can manage." Anne started to move the scissors back to the baby's head.

"Put down those scissors this instant; you'll leave him looking like a _cactus!"_ Marilla ordered. "And did you consider that he might _move_ while you've got the scissors on him and you'll wind up cutting _him _instead of his hair? Besides, babies don't need haircuts."

Anne was not convinced. "There's a first haircut for every baby, right? This will be his. Besides, I'm not going to cut _all _of his hair. I'm only going to cut off all these wavy bits."

"Wavy bits?" Marilla questioned.

"See? His hair isn't just straight anymore- it's starting to get _wavy_," Anne explained, pointing out the waves in Walter's honey blonde hair.

"He has perfectly normal hair," Marilla told her, frowning.

"_My_ hair is straight," Anne told her.

"Yes, it is," Marilla told her. "But his isn't. His hair is going to be wavy."

Anne looked angry. "Well, I don't _want_ his hair to look like that!"

"But that's the way it _grows_, Anne. You cannot change the way his hair comes out of his head! ...What are you going to do if it becomes more wavy as he grows up- will he have to go _bald_ to please you?"

"I don't _want_ it to grow in wavy," Anne grumbled. "I don't like the color either, but I suppose there's nothing I can do about that. _Unless…_you know, sometimes peddlers on the road are selling-"

"Just how would _you_ feel if I said I hated your red hair and I was going to make you dye it some other color just so I'd _like_ you better? Wouldn't that make you feel-"

"Oh, Marilla, _can_ we? That's a wonderful idea!" Anne begged passionately.

Marilla sighed, that not going in the direction she meant it to.

She was firm: "Don't you think for one minute about putting _dye _on that child's head! And no dye on _your_ head, either!"

Anne did not like Marilla's tone, and felt grumpy.

"Well, he's _my _baby, so I can do whatever I want with him," Anne announced.

She continued decidedly, "And I want to cut off all those wavy bits, so that's what I'm going to do."

"No, you can_not_ do whatever you want with him. You are a child living under our roof and I absolutely forbid you from touching one hair on his head," Marilla said sternly. "He is not a doll. He is a _person_ and you can't just decide to chop away at him because you don't like him!"

"But, _Marilla_-"

Marilla took the scissors right out of Anne's hands. "He may be your baby, but they're _my_ scissors. Give them back; you're not to touch them anymore."

Anne crossed her arms. Marilla looked unsympathetic, and so Anne stood up, snatched Walter, and stomped away.

Marilla called after her, "If I see his hair's been hacked away at, you and I are going to have a serious discussion, young lady!"


	137. A World Away

"How did I do?" Gilbert asked.

Anne checked her paper. "You got them all right," she said, going down the list. "Fifty-four questions, and you didn't miss a single one." She smiled at him.

Gilbert breathed out with relief. "Now all I need is for those same exact questions to be on the entrance exam," he told her with a smile.

"No matter _what _the questions are, you'll come out all right," Anne told him.

"I need to practice more for the geometry part," he said. "I feel better about the history part, thanks to you. Do you mind helping me with geometry?"

"You want _my _help with geometry?" Anne asked with a smile. "Whenever I feel disappointed, thinking of geometry is what makes me feel better about missing school!"

Gilbert smiled and squeezed her hand. He was glad she didn't mind helping him. He'd gone a long time avoiding the subject of college, because he didn't want to upset her. But one day she'd finally asked him why he had started to leave Green Gables earlier, and he'd confessed that he needed more time to study. Anne was disappointed. Can't you study here, she had asked- I can be quiet, I won't bother you. Gilbert explained it wasn't a matter of being bothered, and finally admitted he just didn't want to prepare for Queens right in front of her because it seemed cruel. Anne had smiled and said that she loved him for being so thoughtful, but that she'd rather him stay with her as long as possible no matter what he was doing. Gilbert had kissed her.

* * *

The Queens Entrance Exam was fast approaching.

Diana admitted, "This sounds just awful, but I'm glad I'm not alone in not going to Queens!"

"I just hate that your parents won't let you go," Anne told her bosom friend mournfully. "But I suppose in a small, selfish way it _does _make me feel better to know you'll still be here with me, too."

The two hugged.

Diana looked upset. "But not for long."

Anne stared hopelessly at her- she knew Diana's mother was dead set on a French finishing school, but she hadn't connected that it was coming so _soon_.

* * *

Anne was sitting at Marilla's Singer, working on new clothes for Walter.

"She lets you do that by yourself now?" Gilbert asked with a smile after she'd let him in and gone back to her task.

"Yes, it seems she finally decided that if I can be trusted with a baby then I ought to be trusted with the sewing machine, too. ...She _did_ warn me not to sew my fingers together, though," Anne said with a laugh. But as soon as she said it, she got her finger pricked.

Gilbert went quickly to the kitchen to get a wet towel. "Here," he said, leaning down to wipe the blood drop from her hand.

"Thank you," Anne said, scooting herself away from the machine. "Did I tell you Mrs. Andrews wants to make his clothes? She came up to me in church and asked."

Gilbert looked at the machine. "It's on the bobbin, too," he said, removing the blood smear with his towel. "...Oh, no, Anne- it's on the thread."

"Ugh," Anne groaned. She removed the spool from the machine and unwound it, using Marilla's scissors to cut off the thread.

"So she wants to make clothes for him, eh? How do you feel about that?" Gilbert moved on.

Anne looked critically at her work. She could already see two areas she'd have to take apart and re-do. "Well right about now I'm thinking of taking her up on it."

Gilbert smiled. "You know, you have all that money now- have you ever thought of ordering ready made clothes? I see that, sometimes, in catalogs."

Anne sighed. "I _thought_ about it. ...Marilla said it was a terrible extravagance, and there's no need for us not to do the work ourselves. She said I ought to save the money for the future."

Gilbert nodded slowly. But in his opinion, Anne should spend her money right now if she wanted. _He _was for the future. But he could not encourage her to go against her parents, either, so he didn't say anything else about it, and turned his attention to Mrs. Andrews, telling Anne, "She spent a while talking to you the other day. What did she want?"

Anne shook her head. "She's just being nosy, I guess. ...And I know why." She looked down at Walter, who was asleep on the sofa. He'd fallen asleep on his own, right before she was going to take him to bed for his afternoon nap, and she didn't want to wake him, so she left him there. He was breathing in and out slowly, only occasionally stirring in his sleep, his hair looking angelic in the afternoon sunshine.

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked.

Anne sighed. "Just look at him."

Gilbert looked. He wasn't sure what she meant, but he had a pretty good guess.

"If he had been a _girl_, or...or if he'd been a boy who looked like _me_, do you think she'd be so drawn to him?" Anne answered her own question: "Of _course _not. This is all about how he _looks. _She's dying to be around him, for one reason, and one reason only: she thinks she has _her _little boy all over again!"

Anne's rising voice had woken Walter. He looked like he was about to let out a hearty wail at being woken unexpectedly, until he saw Gilbert, and all was forgiven- his favorite person brought light to his eyes, and he smiled.

Gilbert went to the couch, sitting next to Walter, and pulled him close. "Hey, little guy," he said kindly, smiling at him.

"Guh-buh," Walter said happily, throwing himself against Gilbert.

Anne smiled at the two of them together. Gilbert loved her baby so much, and his love for Walter was sometimes what helped _her _to love Walter.

"I hope soon he can figure out how to say _Gilbert_," she commented. "Guh-buh sounds ridiculous."

"I think it's cute," Gilbert commented, tapping Walter on the nose because this made him laugh. "I'm considering legally changing my name to Guh-buh. It's much more..._distinguished_."

Anne laughed.

"So what _do _you want to do about Mrs. Andrews?" Gilbert asked.

Anne bit her lip. "I don't know. I _guess _it's not the end of the world if she knows things about him. As...as long as _I_ get to control what she knows and what she doesn't know! I don't _like_ her going behind my back squeezing information from poor Jane. ...I _did _stop Mrs. Andrews from coming up to our house! So it's not as if she's trying to come _visit _him or anything."

"That's good," Gilbert said, not liking the idea of Mrs. Andrews showing up at Anne's door, either. "But if you don't want her to _know _things about him-"

"But _that's _the _thing_," Anne interrupted, sitting down next to him on the sofa. "I don't think I _can _keep her from knowing things. I mean, not for very _long_. As long as we live in the same small town, our...our circles will collide."

"I guess that's true," Gilbert agreed. "Maybe we won't always live in the same town. There's a whole world outside Avonlea. Maybe after I'm done with school, and working, I can set up my practice in-"

He stopped. "Anne, what is it?"

Anne had not known her eyes had filled with tears until Gilbert brought her attention to them. She hurriedly wiped her eyes.

"What is it, darling?" He reached out, touching her cheek.

"I'm _sorry_. I've been trying not to let you _know-_" she exhaled shakily- "I can get over the disappointment of college, as awful as it was, I _can_...but I hate thinking about you _leaving_. We spend nearly _every day together._ We're going to have such a long time _apart_. I keep reminding myself that Queens isn't really that far away and we'll have the _weekends_, but...but I keep thinking about what will happen _after _Queens- when it's time for you to go on to a _university_. ...You've talked about Redmond, and that's in Kingsport, and I _know _it's silly of me to keep thinking of that when it's not even happening _yet_, but..."

Gilbert took a breath. "I was thinking, Anne. What about if we didn't have to be apart while I'm in college?"

"What do you mean?" Anne asked quietly.

"I'm not saying this will work for _Queens- _and I _know _it won't- I'll have to go to Queens and come home to see you on weekends. ...And I will, Anne, _every _weekend. But-" he squeezed her hands- "But when it's time to start at _Redmond_, I was thinking- you should come to Kingsport with me."

"But I won't be able to go," Anne said, confused.

"No, I-" he shook his head. "I know, you won't be able to go to _Redmond_. I'm not asking you to go to Redmond. ...I'm asking you to come to Kingsport. To _live_. While I'm enrolled at Redmond. It's four years, and we wouldn't have to be apart, love."

"Come to Kingsport to live? To live _where?"_ Anne asked, shaking her head. The whole thing was ridiculous, he couldn't have thought this through at all. "That doesn't make sense, you'll be in the dormitories, and-"

"What I'm saying is-" Gilbert told her, holding her hands- "Is that I don't want to _wait_. I want us to get married. _After _Queens- _right _after Queens- _before _I go to Redmond. And we'll move to Kingsport _together_. I won't live in the dormitories. We'll find a house. A nice little house just for the two- the _three _of us."

Anne felt stunned. She hardly knew what to say. "But you can't afford-"

"I want to sell my farm. I never told you this, but after my father passed away, I had _offers_. I never took them because it wouldn't have made sense to. But once I'm off to college I won't need the farm anymore."

Anne shook her head. "But you _do_ need your farm. And..._land_, and _money_..."

"But I'll have money from the sale. And Anne, because of Queens I'll have a First Class Provincial teaching license. I'm going to try to get hired to teach at one of the local schools near Redmond so I can be earning an income _while _I'm taking university courses."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?" Anne asked.

Gilbert was looking at her with all the hope of the world in his eyes.

"Do you want an answer now?" she asked. "I...I love you, Gilbert. But it's a lot to take in. Moving away from Marilla and Matthew…and we're still _young_, so-"

Gilbert shook his head quickly. "No, no, there's no reason to- I don't want to _push _you. I just wanted you to know what I'm _thinking- _there's no reason we have to be _apart_. I know we're younger than we would have been if we-" he looked down at Walter- "if things had been _different_. But...I'll be nineteen or twenty, then, and that isn't really too young to get married, is it, especially not when I'll have the means to take care of you and Walter."

Anne tried to smile. She was deliriously happy at the idea that she and Gilbert might not have to be apart for four long years, after all. The idea of four years apart while Gilbert went to Redmond was _excruciating- _even _one _year away at _Queens _felt like too much, and it had kept her up many a night.

But it was a lot to take in, and she didn't know what to do- or what Matthew and Marilla might say to the idea of her packing Walter up and moving off the island with him.


	138. The Argument

Anne thought about Gilbert's plans until one morning at breakfast she suddenly blurted out, "I think it's time for me to move forward with my life."

Matthew and Marilla stopped eating, their forks paused mid-air.

"Move forward with your life?" Marilla finally asked, confusion in her voice.

"Yes." Anne said confidently. "After Queens-"

Matthew and Marilla gave each other a look.

"What?" Anne asked, stopping when she saw their faces.

"Anne...it was wonderful that Miss Stacy made it possible for you to graduate Avonlea school, but...I thought you understood that you wouldn't be able to enroll at Queens. Now, I wish it wasn't so. But let's try to make the best of things and enjoy the fact that you _can _graduate. I intend to have a party for you right around the same time graduation would be, so we can celebrate. We'll invite all your friends and I'll make a cake-"

Anne shook her head quickly. "A party'll be nice, Marilla," she rushed on, waving that off. "But I'm talking about after Gilbert goes to Queens, not me."

"How is his studying going?" Marilla asked pleasantly, glad to hear that Anne wasn't suffering from any delusions about Queens accepting young mothers into their ranks.

"He's doing splendidly," Anne answered confidently. "He's ready for the exam- though I can tell he's a little nervous about it!- but he plans to take the teaching course in one year instead of two; that way he can go to Redmond sooner."

"That's very ambitious," Marilla remarked. "I'm not a bit surprised, though- he's an ambitious fellow. I do hope condensing Queens into one year won't be too taxing for him."

"Sure he'll be fine," Matthew spoke up. "Smart as a whip- just like our Anne." He smiled at her.

Anne smiled back.

"Yes, and if Redmond allowed students to condense their courses the way Queens does, I'm sure he'd finish Redmond in record time, too," Marilla agreed, herself with a smile for Anne. "I know you'll miss him while he's away."

"Well," Anne said, "That's just the thing. I may not have to miss him."

"What d'you mean?" Matthew asked.

Anne took a breath. "When Gilbert is finished with Queens, it might be a good time to get married. Then we can move to Kingsport together while he goes to Redmond."

They both stared at her.

"Has he _asked _you, Anne?" Marilla began sharply. She looked at Matthew. "I should think he _might _speak to us first! Proposing marriage!"

"He _didn't _ask me," Anne explained. "We were just talking about college, and he mentioned that if we married before Redmond then we wouldn't have to be apart for four years."

Marilla was done with her breakfast and pushed her plate away. "I don't think he ought to discuss such things with you. We had no _idea _he had any _intention-_"

"Intention!" Anne repeated. "What do you think he's been doing here for the past year and a half? Just being a _pal?"_

"He is your _friend_, that is _all_," Marilla said, her voice rising. "Had I known he had any improper intentions, I'd never have allowed him-"

"_Improper_ intentions!" Anne cut her off. "There is nothing _improper _about intending to _marry _someone! Gilbert's never done anything improper! He loves me and he wants to marry me! You...you make it sound as if he's just waiting for you to turn your head so he can act like a...a _cad!"_

"I never thought any such thing about him," Marilla told her. "I just think it's very presumptuous of him to suggest you _move away with him! _And never having mentioned anything to us...you aren't even old enough to court!"

"I think if I'm old enough to have a _baby _then I ought to be old enough to _court!"_ Anne argued. "...And is there really any _purpose _to courting, now?"

Marilla's face felt hot. "Proper courtship dictates that a young man must come _calling _first, and there's to be a _chaperone_, and he mustn't _ask _you about marriage until _after _he's gotten the blessing of your parents-"

"A chaperone?" Anne couldn't help letting out a little laugh. "What exactly would you be _guarding_, Marilla? I've already been pregnant, there's really nothing left for you to keep watch over, is there?"

Marilla's face flushed again. "If Gilbert is interested in courtship with you, you _ought _to have a _chaperone_, no matter _what _the past may be! What happened to you was not your fault, but _I_, as your...your _mother_, now...have a responsibility to make sure that no man sullies your virtue, going forward."

Anne pushed herself away from the table. "Because _Gilbert _is going to sully my virtue? That's rich, Marilla- you know perfectly well he's treated me with nothing but respect. But now that he wants us to get married and move _away, _suddenly he's someone I need saving from?"

"I don't think I like your tone of voice, young lady," Marilla said sharply to her.

Matthew was looking back and forth between them.

"Marilla," he finally spoke up. "You _know _Gilbert is a good boy. And he and Anne have never made any _secret _about their wanting to be together."

Anne was thinking about how Matthew wasn't _quite_ right- she and Gilbert had started to kiss each other, and that was most definitely kept a secret. She felt a little guilty now about letting it get to the point where they were kissing, but she pushed that feeling away, deciding it wasn't really of any importance, because no matter what Marilla said, they _were _going to get married.

Marilla looked at Matthew as if wanting him to be quiet unless he was going to agree with her. Finally she said, quietly, "This has nothing to do with whether Gilbert is good or not."

"Then what _does _it have to do with?" Anne asked. "If Gilbert is good then what's the problem?"

"Well," Marilla fumbled. "The _timing_, for one thing. It's just...ridiculous. You can't possibly get married next year." She told Anne, more firmly: "Now, Gilbert will go to Queens, and then to Redmond, and from there on to medical school- and you'll stay here with _us_, of course- and then when he's finished, and setting up his practice...although, he ought to have a couple of years to build up his career before he takes on the responsibility of a wife and child-"

Anne was staring at her.

"So _if _the two of you _still _feel this way _at that time_, and you're _mature _enough to marry, well, then that would be-"

"Marilla!" Anne said, flabbergasted. She counted off the years: "A year at Queens...four at Redmond...three at medical school...two for a career...Marilla! That's...that's _ten years!"_

Marilla nodded, thinking that sounded right. "You know, I bet that will be about the same time Dr. Carter would be _retiring_. Yes, that will be very convenient! Perhaps Gilbert can be Avonlea's new doctor-"

"Ten years!" Anne repeated, as if she thought perhaps Marilla hadn't heard her. Her tone full of disbelief: "Marilla why are you doing this? Don't you see how much _easier _it will be for me- for _all _of us- if I get married sooner rather than later?"

"Don't be ridiculous, you aren't old enough to get married."

"Yes, I _am!"_ Anne argued.

"Says who?" Marilla asked, feeling she had already lost Anne.

"The _law! That's _who!"

Marilla had no response to that and was floundering. "Just because the _law _says you're old enough- well, that's of no importance- there's no _need _for _anyone _to marry _that _young-"

"You know, a _lot _of people believed I should have married _a year and a half ago!_" Anne pointed out. "When Walter was born! No, _before _he was born! ...I could have been married _already_, and-"

"Yes, at fourteen, and to a boy who violated you- _that's _what townsfolk wanted, wasn't it? It was _foolhardy _that anyone would have agreed to such a marriage! ...You don't seem to _realize _how _very fortunate_ you are to have guardians who have _better sense than most of the people in this town!_ Guardians who would not _allow _you to rush into something as foolish as a young marriage!"

"But _Gilbert_ and I aren't _rushing!" _Anne argued. "When have we rushed anything? We'll _still _have to wait another _year! And I feel like we've been waiting forever already!" _

"You sound just like an impatient _child_, Anne, complaining about a wait that's hardly been long at all! _Clearly_ you aren't mature enough to be married." Marilla paused, then a new argument came to her head, and she said: "It's _more _than just romance and lovey-dovey _feelings_\- perhaps you've forgotten that marrying means taking on the running of a _household_. You have to know how to do everything _yourself_\- you'll have to prepare _all _the meals and know how to clean everything _properly_, and you haven't had care of a house before-"

"May I _remind _you," Anne spit out, her voice shaking with anger- "That I have had care of _plenty _of houses _long _before I ever came to Green Gables and _they _trusted me more than _you _do! You wouldn't let me use the sewing machine alone because you thought I'd hurt myself! You won't let me turn the oven on when you're not home- you think I'll burn the house down! Well, I have had _plenty _of-"

But she did not get to finish because Marilla interrupted her, finding another point in her favor: "Oh, _yes_, the _oven!_ You do just _fine _with the oven- _until _something or other catches your fancy and you lose all track of the hour! What will you do when Gilbert comes home from a long day of work and he hasn't any dinner to eat because _you _got lost in thought _wondering_ _why the sky is blue?"_

"The sky _isn't_ blue, Marilla," was Anne's first reply. "It only looks blue, and Miss Stacy told me why!"

Marilla rolled her eyes. "Oh, well it will be something else, then! Something else that will make you lose all sense and reason!" When Anne's mouth opened to argue, Marilla- her voice shaking angrily every bit as much as Anne's, shouted:

"_I won't be there to save your pies from burning, Anne!"_

"Maybe I don't _need_ you to _save_ me from anything," Anne said through her teeth. "Maybe I'll do just fine on my own."

She stomped up the stairs. She'd rather have stomped out of the house, but she had a baby, and she couldn't leave him.

Walter was startled by his mama slamming their bedroom door.


	139. Matthew Points the Way

After an explosive breakfast, the morning passed uneventfully. Marilla was housekeeping, Matthew was out with Jerry working, and Anne stayed upstairs sulking, until at last she was forced downstairs by Walter, who needed to eat.

She carried him downstairs, him fussing because he wanted to test out the stairs and Anne would not allow him to.

Anne, feeling angry, still, but moreso just awkward after her fight with Marilla, entered into the kitchen with apprehension. Marilla was down in the cellar, and Anne breathed a sigh of relief. She quickly grabbed some leftovers from the pantry and heated them up on the stove.

"Hold on, Walter," she murmured as she held him on her hip. "Food's almost ready."

Walter had just finished eating and Anne was cleaning him up and wiping the table when Marilla came upstairs.

The two made eye contact for a split second and then broke it. Anne said under her breath, "I hope you don't mind me using the stove_ to feed my child_ when you weren't here to _hover_. But as you can see, I did _not_ burn down the house."

Marilla, who had felt ready to calm down and make things right between them, was now stirred to bitterness herself- and was about to respond bitterly, when she stopped herself and took a breath. She told herself to be the adult in the situation, and she said calmly, "You have used the stove plenty of times without me hovering." That was all she said.

Unfortunately for Anne, Walter wanted Marilla and began pulling toward her, crying and calling _Mar-mar_ as he had recently taken to calling her, and so Anne was forced to give in a little- she came over to Marilla and let Walter go to her.

Marilla held the baby a moment, cherishing him, while Anne stood there still annoyed with her. Marilla said, "It's a nice day out. Why don't you take him out to play." She set him down. He wobbled a moment and grabbed onto Anne's legs.

Marilla took a whisk from the cupboard, and the bar of soap from the sink, and handing them both to Anne, she said, "Get a pail and take him to the pump. He'll have fun."

Anne didn't respond, but she took the things from Marilla and pulled Walter along to the front door. She took him outside and to the pump. Walter liked watching the water pour into the pail but he did not know what was going to come next, or why mama had a bar of soap and a funny looking thing from the kitchen.

"Now, see here, Walter- watch what mama is going to do," She lathered the soap until the water in the pail was soapy. Then she dipped the whisk in. When she took it out, she waved it around. Bubbles floated above Walter's head. He laughed, surprised and delighted, and waved his arms in an attempt to catch them.

"Come on," Anne said later, when Walter had lost interest in chasing bubbles. "Let's go visit mama's friend, the Kind Tree." She walked there with Walter toddling along beside her.

She used to climb the tree, but she couldn't do that anymore now, with Walter left alone underneath. So instead she picked him up and pointed high up into the branches. "See all the way up there? Mama used to climb _so_ high. When you get big you can climb, too. You can see _everything_ from up there. You'll love it."

"Up!" Walter said, waving his arms. "Up, up!"

"No, not today," she told him. "Someday."

"Up!" he protested.

Anne put him down. She leaned down low, grabbed his little hands in her own, and whispered. "Someday I'll show you all my treasures. They're hidden inside the hollow at the very top, just over that big friendly branch. We can't go up there now, but inside all my treasures are waiting. They can be _your_ treasures, too, We'll _share_ them. Just _us. "_

But after she said it, she thought about how if they lived in Kingsport, the tree wouldn't be close by. Maybe they'd live in the city, and there would be no trees at all. Anne wasn't sure she would like living in the city where there was precious little green.

She stood up, took him by the hand, and pulled him away. It was a nice day, and she decided she'd let him go wading in the brook. She pulled his shoes off and held his hand as he splashed in the shallow water. He liked to watch the fish as they scurried away.

When Walter had had enough of wading, Anne lifted him from the brook and set him on the grass. She would not put his shoes back on, since she hadn't brought a towel to dry his feet. Instead he walked through the grass barefoot, and Anne ambled along slowly, watching him as he took in all that surrounded him. This interested her because he was nearly two now and could view the world around him in a way that he couldn't during his first springtime. She'd taken care of small children for a long time, but having one of her own was different- she felt invested in his little discoveries, taking delight when she saw him experience something new.

Seeing Matthew coming around the side of the barn, she waved. "_Maaa-foo,_" Walter called, and Anne rolled her eyes, thinking they needed to clarify what Walter ought to _call_ Marilla and Matthew, because it seemed odd to her that he should call them by their given names, and his baby names of _Marmar_ and _Mafoo_ would not be charming for very long.

Anne ran a bit to catch up to Walter, who was dashing toward Mafoo. Matthew reached down and tousled Walter's honey blonde waves, then looked to Anne, a question in his eyes.

"No, I haven't apologized," Anne answered. "And I'm not going to! Marilla's treating me like an _infant! _I'm perfectly capable of handling things on my own! She just doesn't _trust_ me, Matthew!"

Matthew paused. "Well now, I don't think it's a matter of _trust, _exactly."

"Then what is it," Anne blew out her breath in frustration. "Because I can think of twenty other people who trust me more than she has!"

"Who?" Matthew asked, his voice soft.

"All the people I lived with before!" Anne exclaimed. "The Hammond's, for starters! Did you know I was charged with the care of three sets of twins, and every morning I'd light the fires, get the stove on, start breakfast, clean the house, heat irons and lift them in and out of the fire to press clothes- all kinds of things, with no one hovering by to supervise!"

Matthew looked like he was thinking.

"What?" Anne asked impatiently.

"Well it seems to me," he said slowly, "That all them people you lived with before put an awful lot of burden on a little girl. Lighting the fires, getting the stove on, and such things, coulda been a danger, with no grown folk to keep you safe."

"I managed," Anne said uncomfortably.

"Glad nothing ever happened to you," he commented. "Burns, for one thing. Be easy for a little girl to be scarred with burns, being forced to handle hot irons over a fire. Seems like they'd be heavy and easily dropped."

Anne nodded slowly. She had almost dropped the heavy irons many times and felt the sting of the flames. But far from being comforted and helped, she'd been scolded for not getting the job done sooner.

Finally Matthew said, "It ain't that Marilla don't trust you. It's that she cares."

That hit Anne and she felt awful. She realized something then:

The Hammonds hadn't _trusted_ her. They just didn't care if she got hurt or not. She was there to do a job, and they didn't care what happened to her as long as she got the job done.

Marilla was so careful with Anne because the work she provided was _secondary: _Her primary concern was that Anne would never come to harm.


	140. Deference

When Gilbert appeared at Green Gables, Anne wasn't back yet. Though Marilla felt less than welcoming, she invited Gilbert in. After taking a few calming breaths, she decided that perhaps it was _good _he was here when Anne wasn't: she intended to question him about the things he'd said to Anne.

"Come in, Gilbert," she said with a bit of an exasperated sigh.

Entering the house, Gilbert felt apprehensive- why did Miss Cuthbert have such a disgruntled expression?

"If it's a bad time, I can come back later," he began, but Marilla waved that off.

"Sit down and have some tea," she said in an attempt to sound less intimidating.

Gilbert didn't speak again until she did.

"Anne seems to be under the impression that she is moving to Kingsport with you."

Gilbert nearly choked on his tea. He swallowed quickly.

"It surprised me, Gilbert, to hear that you spoke of marriage to her when _we've _never had such a conversation. Surely you are aware that to initiate such a thing you're expected to approach a girl's parents first."

Gilbert's mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. He didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "I...guess I don't know much about the ways of courtship? I'm...sorry." He thought he ought to say more, but he felt wildly caught off guard.

It occurred to Marilla, then, that Gilbert had no father to guide him. She knew John Blythe had spoken to Gilbert about Anne, and that John had told Gilbert he had his blessing when it came to a future together...but perhaps he had never explained to his son what the actual _steps _were. Realizing this, she calmed down and tried to be understanding: "When a young man is interested in a girl- and when they are both old enough- he should come calling first. Which-" _Marilla reluctantly admitted-_ "I suppose you already have, sort of. ...And _then_, when they begin to court, they're expected to have a chaperone." But Marilla stopped _again_, realizing that Anne could not _go _to the social gatherings that were set up for the purpose of young people finding courtships. She sighed. "Well, anyway, _after _a courtship has been going on, and marriage talk comes about, it is proper for the young man to ask the parents for their daughter's hand in marriage. Only _after _getting _their _blessing should he then ask her if she'll marry him."

"Oh...so I wasn't supposed to bring it up with her at all?" Gilbert asked slowly. Why was courtship complicated, he wondered- Why couldn't people just like each other, and talk about it, and decide together how they wanted to move ahead?

Marilla sighed. She could not be upset with him; his ignorance of the whole process was obvious.

"Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert began. "I think very highly of you and Mr. Cuthbert and I don't want to do anything to make you think otherwise."

"I know," Marilla relented. "I see now that you didn't mean to do anything wrong. But I must admit I am surprised you're thinking of marriage so _early_. You're still so young." She couldn't help adding: "With no college education and no career."

"I don't mean for it to be _now_," Gilbert tried to explain. "_After _Queens- when I have my _teaching license_\- I'll have a career while going to Redmond and medical school."

He added in a rush: "_Really_, I wouldn't have asked her if I hadn't had a plan for how I'm going to _support _her."

"Yes, Anne told us all of that…" but even that didn't satisfy Marilla.

They sat there another moment, everything horribly awkward, until Marilla made it worse by introducing a new aspect:

"Gilbert," she began, "Anne is still coping with what happened to her. And she may be for several years. I don't think that marriage- with all that it entails- is a possibility for her right now."

Gilbert stared at her blankly a moment, then flushed, realizing that Miss Cuthbert was discussing intimate relations with him. "_Oh-_ uh, well- I don't have any...unrealistic expectations." Gilbert could not possibly tell her that he and Anne had _already _discussed the issue of intimacy in marriage. "To me, marrying only means we can stay together when I go to Kingsport. It doesn't mean...anything else."

Marilla stared at him. She could see how uncomfortable she'd made him. She could also see that he was telling the truth: he would never push her dear girl to do anything she couldn't do yet.

Finally Marilla set down her teacup. "Yes, about Kingsport."

Gilbert waited.

"You know, I just want what's _best _for Anne. ...And I know _you _want what's best for her, too. But…"

"What is it?"

Marilla sighed. "If you move to Kingsport together...she will love being with you, no doubt about that, but you'll have your teaching license from Queens and you'll be busy teaching school all day, and then you'll come home to grade your students' homework and prepare your lesson plans, not to mention your own college coursework and studying! That will take up your time, as it must. Anne will be alone most of the day, and when you're home you'll be divided among your many tasks and cannot truly give her your attention."

She paused, then went on: "And it will be difficult for her to form bonds there- girls her own age will be busy with their own educational paths...and may not be _allowed _to associate with her anyway. And if she instead tries to become friends with other mothers of small children, they may reject her being included in their circles because she _is _so much younger than them...getting married at her isn't _unheard _of, but it is just a _bit _young...and it is _certainly _young to have a child _already_\- one that people will know was born years ago. The people you associate with will assume the two of you married out of _necessity_, which puts a mark on you...and may render Anne friend-less. I hope that won't be the case, but it is a very real possibility. …Here in Avonlea, people are used to her situation by now- she doesn't have to try to explain anything to anyone, or worry about public perception. Very few people here in town blame her anymore."

Gilbert didn't say anything.

"So you see, Gilbert, there's a great deal _more _to consider than just your _love _for her. And I'd like you to think about that before you proceed."

"I guess...I guess I didn't really think about what she'd be _doing_ while I'm working and going to class," Gilbert admitted. "I mean- I knew she'd be home with the baby, but...I never thought about that as being _isolating_. I didn't really think about her making friends in Kingsport…" He was still thinking. "...I thought we'd be together, but I guess I didn't think about how busy I'd be."

"And it won't _always _be that way," Marilla consoled him. "When you're finished with your schooling and you can open a medical practice, you'll be busy at work and she'll be home- only it will be different _then_, because you'll be able to come home from work and enjoy being with your family. ...But Gilbert, when you're trying to work _and _go to school, you just won't have _time_."

Gilbert nodded slowly. The idea of Anne isolated at home while he ran around busy with school and work bothered him. He did not want her to be lonely- or worse, to feel ignored by him.

He _still_ wanted Anne to come to Kingsport with him, though, and even with these obstacles to consider, he felt _sure_ that he could somehow find a solution that would allow them to be happy despite the busy schedule he'd be facing.

"Gilbert, Anne and I got into a bit of a row about it. She told me she was dead set on it, and I told her- well, I said a _lot _of things- but the point is, she won't listen to _any _of them! Once she gets an idea in her head, I could talk on and on about what's _sensible_, and…" She suddenly stopped, and after regarding him a moment, she continued, thoughtfully: "You know, there's a...a natural sort of _falling-away_ when a young person reaches a certain age- they tend to listen _less _to their _parents_, and they begin to listen more to others. ...Anne's at that point, I believe."

Sounding serious, Marilla finally concluded with: "I truly do think it would be a mistake to take Anne to Kingsport."

Gilbert was troubled; he wanted _so much_ to bring Anne with him and not be apart anymore, and he felt sure they could figure out how to make it work.

Marilla continued, "For all her talk of being an independent woman, she really does look to you for direction sometimes- and I know you've said it's equal, and you look to her just as much as she does to you...but I think when it comes to it she will go along with what you say. So I'm _asking _you, Gilbert, if you would agree to..._to be on my side. _Could you do that?"

Gilbert took a deep breath. He let go of the idea of bringing Anne to Kingsport, and decided instead to back up Marilla and her position in Anne's life. "Yes," he said. "I'll tell her I changed my mind...I'll tell her I think it would be better for her to stay here in Avonlea."


	141. Empty House, Lonely Hearts

Gilbert decided to leave after his talk with Marilla.

He was astute enough to realize that if he rescinded his invitation right after Anne saw him talking to Marilla, Anne would see right through it.

He told Marilla he was going to go home and think about things.

* * *

When Anne came in later, Walter tumbled into the house and threw himself at Marilla. She leaned down and patted his hair. "Did you have a nice time with your mama?" she asked him.

"I'm sorry about the grass," Anne said, quickly bending down to pick up leaves of grass they'd tracked in from outside.

"It's all right," Marilla told her, "It's nothing not easily fixed."

Anne nodded, and then said, avoiding Marilla's eyes, "I'm sorry about other things, too…"

"Oh?" Marilla asked.

"Yes. I...I _know _you just worry because you care about me."

Marilla's eyes softened. "That I do." She took a big breath. "I must say, I know you're growing up- I understand you're going to have your own ideas for what you ought to be doing, and they won't always line up neatly with what _we _want you to do."

"No, they won't," Anne said aloud.

Marilla raised her eyebrows. "I don't like us being at odds with each other."

Anne didn't say anything.

"You're just sixteen," Marila began. "I think a girl ought to have some time of...of just being her own person, before she marries."

"I can be married and _still _be my own person," Anne pointed out. "I don't see why becoming somebody's wife means I must give up my _personhood_."

"It's just that when a woman marries, she's sort of...sort of under the-" Marilla didn't really know how to end the sentence, flummoxed. Although she always regretted that she'd never married, she realized now that when she was pointing out how marriage worked, she _herself _didn't find it too _appealing_: It _did _mean giving something of yourself up. A woman wasn't allowed to have strong opinions, she was supposed to back up her husband's opinions. She wasn't allowed to make decisions, she was expected to be content with her husband's decisions. And why? Because everyone believed that a woman was just naturally suited to be a follower rather than a leader. Before this, Marilla never gave it much thought, because that was the world all around her. But thinking of Anne, Marilla suddenly saw how absurd the whole thing was.

Anne was still talking: "And I think Gilbert would find me awfully _dull _if I just conformed to whatever _he_ said."

Marilla had to give that to her. "Yes, I think you're right. You and Gilbert challenge each other's thinking, and you respect each other's ideas, and I think that's very healthy."

"Then _why can't I move to Kingsport with him?"_

"Because you just _can't_, Anne, and that's all there is to it!" Marilla shook her head, stopping herself. She continued, "When you're an adult, things will be different, but for now...oh, at this age, Anne, you're caught between being a little girl and being a woman, aren't you? Me ordering you about as if you're a child isn't going to work! ...But I _can't _allow you to go off doing your own thing as an _adult_, yet, either. ...So I think we ought to try to come up with solutions that work for both of us in the meantime."

"There isn't any _way _to compromise," Anne said. "I want to move to Kingsport with Gilbert, and you don't want me to. How _can_ there be a compromise on that?"

Marilla thought of something. She said brightly, "I'm sure Gilbert will come home on weekends, but Matthew or I could take the train with you to visit him _through _the week occasionally. Then there'd be some times where you'd see him more than just once a week."

Anne had decided she was done with arguing with Marilla, but she couldn't hide her disappointment- visiting Gilbert once in a while was _not _a compromise. But having made up her mind not to argue, she just set to work fixing a snack for Walter. There was nothing she could do right now, but- _Maybe Gilbert and I can find a way to convince Marilla._

Marilla watched her, finding it a very big deal that Anne _hadn't _argued or stomped away. Marilla was used to Anne making a noisy display of her feelings. "Well," she said. "I think you're handling it very maturely now. We'll continue to talk, and perhaps we will find a solution that is suitable to all."

_Or Gilbert and I will get you to change your mind,_ Anne thought silently.

* * *

"Why did you wait so long to come over?" Anne said unhappily, leaning into Gilbert. She felt strength in his arms as he wrapped them around her, and she breathed in his wonderful scent, letting her head rest on his shirt for a moment so that she could feel his heartbeat.

He kissed her on the top of her head, seeing as it was so conveniently placed underneath his own. And then told her a lie: "I'm sorry. I needed to...clean."

Anne looked at him.

"I'm hardly ever _home_, Anne, and my house is full of dust!" He smiled, hoping to convince her. But it wasn't _completely _a lie, not really, because he _had _gone home and cleaned his oven.

Anne accepted this, and said, "I guess I hadn't thought too much about your house. How 'bout I come over with you one day and we'll clean it together? I'm glad you're here now, anyway. Walter is, too."

"Is he?"

"He's taking his nap, but he'll be glad to see you when he wakes up."

"I'll be glad to see him, too," Gilbert said softly, thinking about how he'd be gone _such _a long time, and would miss everything.

"Gilbert, you've _got _to help me convince Marilla that we'll be all right living in Kingsport," Anne announced.

Gilbert looked caught off guard. "Oh. Well, uh-"

Anne went on, "She thinks we shouldn't."

Gilbert sat down with Anne on the sofa. "You know, it occurred to me that I didn't go about this the right way," he told her.

"What do you mean?"

"All this courtship stuff...I think I better find out what I'm _supposed _to do, before we tell your family anything."

Anne looked unhappy: "But I already told them," she said.

Of course Gilbert knew this, and said, "Well, hold off on telling them anything more. Not till after I talk to them. There's...there's _social convention_ to think of."

Anne felt grumpy. She did not enjoy being told that other people had to discuss her future without her, before she was allowed to have a say. "Why do we have to think of _that _at all?"

Gilbert understood this and said, "Because I care about what your _family _thinks- I just don't want Matthew and Marilla to have any reason not to like me. All right?"

"All right," Anne said, still slightly grumpy.

"You know," Gilbert went on, as if the idea had just occurred to him, "Living in Kingsport will be hard."

"Why?" Anne was still leaning against him. "We'll be together."

"Not very much," Gilbert told her. "I'll be gone from...probably six in the morning to about five or six in the evening. Every day. And when I get home I'll have a lot to do. I'll probably just be shut up in a room night after night. ...You'll forget what I look like."

Anne laughed, and then Gilbert did too.

"I won't forget what you look like," she said happily. "It will still be nice to be so _near _each other, even if you _are _busy most of the time."

Gilbert kept thinking. "I hate for you to miss Diana. She's not going to Queens. It will be sad for her, you moving away."

Anne shook her head. "Diana is leaving, too," she said. "I guess we all are, ready to start our grown up lives…"

"There's Matthew and Marilla, then," he came to. "It'll be hard for them."

Anne finally caught on. "Gilbert, why do you keep bringing up reasons why it won't be a good thing? Nothing is perfect, but we want to be together...you _do _want to be together, don't you?"

Gilbert looked at her. "I do."

"But?"

"But there's something I want more than us being together," he decided. "I want you to be _happy_. And it seems to me that being in Kingsport won't do that." He added, "I also don't want Matthew and Marilla to _lose _you. ...If we go away, they'll be all alone."

Anne bit her lip. "I didn't really think about them being _alone…_"

Gilbert went on: "You told me once that it seemed to you they had terribly lonesome lives, never finding love or having families of their own. ...But three years ago, their lives _changed_. For the _better_. ...It seems cruel- to let them have just a little taste of what it's like to love someone so much, and then to take that _away…_"

Anne remembered how Mrs. Lynde told a lady at church that "_Marilla had an Anne-shaped hole in her heart"_. ...And suddenly she couldn't bear to think of leaving Marilla and Matthew, either.

"We have our whole lives together, Anne. The whole rest of our lives! ...Could we give Matthew and Marilla a few more years?"

Anne finally nodded. "All right."

* * *

NOTE: So, Anne doesn't move to Kingsport...BUT Anne and Gilbert STILL decide to get married young- but they just live in Avonlea instead of Kingsport. ...Stay tuned for further marriage news lol.


	142. Graduation

Marilla baked a cake for Anne's graduation.

"I wish she could attend the ceremony with all the others," Matthew remarked, softly.

"As do I," Marilla let go of a sigh. "But let's try to put on a smile and act as if this is all just how it's supposed to go. ...Mustn't keep reminding her of what she's missed."

Matthew nodded. He went into town to buy Anne a present.

* * *

The morning of graduation, Anne gave Walter a bath and dressed him in the crisp new pale blue outfit she'd made. Frustrated at how many times she'd had to pull out her stitches and begin again, she was now pleased with the result and thought the outfit was nicely made.

Marilla thought so, too, telling her that she'd shown remarkable improvement. High praise from Marilla, and Anne was satisfied.

Anne combed Walter's hair- still wishing every minute that it did not look as it did- and then she cleaned his new white shoes to make sure they looked shiny.

And then Anne sent Walter away with Matthew and Marilla to watch Gilbert graduate.

She had been told by the school board that she could not attend.

She would have come regardless of what the board had dictated- but she was relieved to have an excuse.

* * *

Gilbert got dressed that morning with trepidation. Graduation _should _have been an exciting day- a _fulfilling _day. But he was robbed of that joy by Anne's barr from the ceremony.

He used the mirror in his father's bedroom to tie his tie. _Wish you could be here, Dad. I know this was important to you._

He had thought there would be no one there to watch him graduate, but when he arrived, he saw that Matthew and Marilla were right up front, with Walter squeezed between them. Marilla waved to him. A lump came into his throat, seeing them. He did not glance around to see if Anne might be there as well. He knew she wouldn't be.

He had told Anne, just a few days ago, that she could come no matter _what _the school board said- after all, it wasn't as if they could do anything to her _anymore- _they couldn't expel her for it; her certificate was already in Miss Stacy's hands.

But Anne had just shaken her head. _No_, she had told him._ I want to see you, but...Miss Stacy really stood up for me, at risk to her own job. ...I'm not going to put her at risk again._

The truth was, she just didn't think she could cope: Watching her entire class walk across and be handed diplomas and hearing speeches about their futures and about Queens...Anne hated to be selfish on a day she should have just been proud of Gilbert...but it was going to be _so _hard for her. She had cried herself to sleep many a night, thinking of that graduation ceremony.

And so she clung to the school board as an excuse, feeling terribly guilty.

Gilbert, after thinking on it, was glad she wasn't coming. He _wanted _her there, but he thought it was very kind of her to want to protect Miss Stacy's job, and above all he hated to see her forced to watch as everyone else did what she could not do.

* * *

While Mr. and Mrs. Andrews and Prissy came to watch Jane graduate, they spent the majority of their time watching Walter.

Harmon Andrews tried to tune him out, but _Mrs_. Andrews and Prissy could hear every little exclamation he made, until Marilla at last pulled him close to her side and whispered, "Hush, now. Be quiet, they're starting the ceremony."

Prissy had always felt uncomfortable by the situation they had found their family in, and she, like her father, was content to just avoid eye contact and not act as if the baby had anything to do with them. But now, sitting so near him, seeing him dressed so sweetly and giggling and saying all the words he knew, she found herself contrite that they'd put their noses up at him in the first place. Prissy smiled at Walter when he peeked backward to her around Marilla's shoulder.

Mrs. Andrews couldn't help thinking, _In eight weeks, it'll be his birthday. He'll be two years old. We didn't see his first birthday. And we won't see his second, either. How much we miss...perhaps she'd let us...no, of course she wouldn't. Why would she? Yet I so wish... Perhaps I could just ask..._

* * *

Anne's friends began arriving at Green Gables at about three o'clock. They were still dressed in their finest from the graduation ceremony that morning, and they had cards for her, and she had for them as well. They spent a long time talking a mile a minute and giggling with each other and Marilla delayed bringing out the cake until Miss Stacy arrived with Anne's diploma.

Besides a diploma, Anne had a bouquet of flowers from Gilbert and a stationary set and new pen, from Matthew.

* * *

Gilbert topped the list in the Queens' entrance examination.

Anne wasn't a bit surprised.

"I'm second, really," he said, kissing her softly. "You'll always be number one."


	143. Gatekeeper

Now that Gilbert's place at Queens was assured, he felt he could relax and just enjoy being with Anne and Walter...and try to put out of his mind, that in just a few short weeks, he'd need to leave them to start the Fall term.

At least he had Walter's birthday to look forward to.

Anne felt like doing more for Walter this year than she had last year. She was going to bake his cake herself, and she planned to make ice cream, which she had never done before, but was looking forward to. She had also spent a long time picking out something to give him, and she decided to have a little party with just her friends and, of course, Walter's friend, Clara.

Last year, when he'd turned one, Marilla had made a little round cake which none of them ate because Walter put his hands and face in it, and then decided he did not want to actually eat it, and it went wasted. At least it had been small. Anne had given him a new book, but that was all, and she hadn't chosen it with care or even wrapped it, because she was feeling sad around the time of his birthday. Gilbert bought him a pair of shoes, and Marilla made him a new gown. But it had been a quiet affair, which was just as well since Walter hadn't known he was having a birthday anyway. Anne was glad Walter wasn't aware that she hadn't cared very much about his first birthday, and she hoped she wouldn't feel sad _every _year when it was time to celebrate him.

She was relieved to find that she _didn't_: His second birthday was upon them, and Anne didn't feel sad about it at all.

Today she set to work making a stuffed toy for him.

"What's that?" Gilbert asked bluntly, after looking at the strange animal Anne was sewing and being unable to recognize it.

"It's a wapallumpooley," Anne explained seriously as she attached it's third eye.

"Uh...where does it come from?" Gilbert asked hesitantly, looking at it's six legs, spiky tail, floppy ears, and giant nose.

"It comes from my head," Anne said with a smile. "It's an animal I made up for him."

She picked up a handful of papers tied together by a ribbon. She had drawn a picture of her imaginary animal, under the heading: "The Tale of the Mysterious Wapallumpooley".

Gilbert smiled. Anne must be feeling like herself.

Anne set her book down on the coffee table. Gilbert noticed that right next to it, Walter's baby memory book was lying open.

"Can I look at this?" he asked her.

Anne nodded absently, measuring out some red cloth to give the wapallumpooley a long tongue.

Gilbert picked up the book and began reading:

_You are the sweetest, most darling baby in the world. You have lovely golden wavy hair, like an angel. You brighten my days. You are absolute perfection._

Gilbert smiled.

_I wanted to have a baby very much, and you are *exactly* the baby I was hoping for._

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. _So that's going to be Anne's narrative? All right, then,_ he thought, _good to know, since I'm going to have to back up whatever story she decides to tell him…_

But he wondered how she was going to explain away her young age; why she had "decided" to have a baby at only fourteen?

* * *

Gilbert and Anne were waiting at the counter for the salesgirl to come back.

It had been a few weeks since graduation. Now that July had begun, Anne was thinking about Walter's birthday on August 3.

Prissy and Mrs. Andrews laid down their fabric bolts on the counter, choosing to smile at Gilbert despite the neutral expression he regarded them with.

"Good afternoon," he finally responded out of politeness.

"If there's something you're looking for, perhaps I could help you find it?" Prissy asked them. "I think I know every inch of this shop by now!"

Gilbert shook his head. "We already asked. She's in the back room measuring out some salt for us."

When the salesgirl returned with the salt, Gilbert and Anne thanked her and paid, and then she turned her attention to Prissy's textiles.

"My, that's a lot of salt," Mrs. Andrews commented absently to the two, as if just trying to create an opportunity for conversation.

"I'm making icecream," Anne explained, only to be polite, and then she stepped away and continued down the store aisles, thinking about what else she needed.

Gilbert walked along beside her. He took two candles and a tiny box of food dye. Mrs. Andrews watched them, now a distance away. _They're preparing for his birthday,_ she guessed._ A birthday we won't be allowed to see._

At church the next Sunday, Mrs. Andrews gathered her courage and walked right up to Anne. "I am aware that he has a birthday coming up," she said hesitantly. "I wanted to ask about when would be a good time to drop off a birthday present?"

Anne couldn't help bristling: Mrs. Andrews had not asked _if _she could give him a gift, she'd asked _when _she could give it.

"You have a gift for him?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Mrs. Andrews nodded breathlessly.

Marilla and Matthew glanced at Anne.

It took Anne a long time to formulate a reply: "I don't know if I _like _the idea of you giving him a birthday present."

Mrs. Andrews was devastated.

They stood there a moment, at an impasse, until finally Marilla laid a hand on Anne's shoulder in an effort to direct her past Mrs. Andrews and out of the church.

But Anne shrugged her off, finally finding her voice, and saying, "I suppose you may show me what it is, and I will decide if I think it is suitable or not."

Mrs. Andrews detected a distinct note of disdain in Anne's voice, but what she did not know was that Anne was actually doing her very best to be cordial and pleasant.

"Very well," Mrs. Andrews said softly, "Should I bring it by, perhaps?"

"Not today," Anne said with a sniff. "Tomorrow you may. When you pick up Jane. Don't come up to the house. I'll come out and look, and I'll let you know."

Marilla remarked to Anne on the way home, "I'm surprised you want to allow it."

"I don't know that I _will _allow it," Anne said stiffly.

"Allowing her to come by with something to show you, at all, I meant," Marilla explained.

Gilbert looked at Anne. There was something pulling at the corner of her mouth, that no one else could see. And then he understood: Anne was enjoying being the gatekeeper.

He hated to think Anne was dangling the baby in front of the Andrews as a _pawn_ in a sort of a game, but in a way, he couldn't blame her. _She_ had something _they_ wanted. She didn't get to feel powerful very often.

As long as she wasn't hurting Walter in the process, he wouldn't say anything.

* * *

When Mrs. Andrews came by the next day, Anne was very critical of the gift. "Well, I don't _know_," she said slowly. "We may not have _room _for it."

There was _plenty _of room at Green Gables for the ride along rocking horse, and Walter would love it, but still Anne said, "I'll have to think about where it could go."

She ran her hand along the wooden seat. "I'm not convinced it's _safe_," she announced.

Mrs. Andrews looked hopeful. "It's supposed to be very safe," she said, her voice almost wavering. "Look, I saved the manual from the company, and- and my husband assembled it very carefully-"

"_Mr_. Andrews assembled it?" Marilla couldn't help blurting out.

Mrs. Andrews hadn't meant to reveal that her husband had helped in this endeavor.

"He did, yes," she reluctantly admitted. It was true: Mr. Andrews had helped, though he hadn't done it gladly.

"That's very interesting," Anne commented.

She grilled Mrs. Andrews for a while about various aspects of the gift, until she ran out of questions and was content that she had sufficiently lorded it over her.

"So...so he _can_ have it, then?" Mrs. Andrews finally.

Anne nodded. "I'll allow it. _This_ time."

"Could I give it to him _myself_, or- or must I just- just _leave _it?" Mrs. Andrews faltered.

"You may _leave _it. Next time you bring Jane, you can drop it off. On the front porch."

Mrs. Andrews was glad Walter could have the present she'd picked out for him, but she was terribly disappointed that Anne wouldn't let her give it to him herself.


	144. 2nd Birthday

When Mrs. Andrews came with the rocking horse, Prissy and Jane were with her. Prissy looked kinder, somehow, than Anne had previously thought of her.

"Shall I go find Matthew, or- what is his name, Jerry?" Mrs. Andrews asked. "To carry it up to the porch? I can carry it myself, but you had asked me not to come up to the house..."

Anne felt better; Mrs. Andrews remembered the boundaries she'd set. "That's all right," she said. "You can come up just this once, to bring it."

Mrs. Andrews took one end of the box and Prissy took the other end. It was wrapped beautifully, Anne thought. She hated to think of Walter's little hands tearing the paper open.

Once it was on the porch, Mrs. Andrews sighed. "Well, thank you for allowing us to give this," she said. "Jane, I'll be back for you around four."

Jane nodded to her mother.

Mrs. Andrews and Prissy left, Anne and Jane dragged the box into the parlor. "It does four different things," Jane told Anne. "Want to open it and see?"

Anne shook her head, not wanting to ruin the wrapping paper.

"She really _does _think nicely of you now," Jane told Anne. "It isn't an act."

The girls spent a happy afternoon together.

Jane wished that everyone could get along. But- unlike her mother- she didn't hold out much hope that there could ever be a real relationship between the two families. She was just grateful for her mother's turnaround.

And, it seemed to her, that Prissy might be making a turnaround, too.

* * *

"Ice cream," Walter said.

"Yes, icecream," Anne agreed happily. This word was new. But Anne no longer wrote down every new word he had, because at this point there were so many. "Now we must churn it, Walter. Look what mama will do," and she began to crank the handle.

"Ice cream" Walter said again. "Icecream, now!"

"No, not now," Anne said. She opened the churn to show him what was inside. "It isn't icecream _yet_. Not until _after _lots and _lots _of churning."

Walter grabbed at the handle, wanting his turn, but he could not turn the crank, and began to cry.

"Look, I'll help you," Anne said. "You hold the crank and I'll turn it."

She guided his hands around. "Ice cream, ice cream," Walter said happily.

But when it was ready, and Anne gave him a bite, he made a face and spit it out.

* * *

Walter's birthday party would be held outdoors, it being August. Anne had made paper cranes and hung them from branches, and Marilla and Matthew brought chairs out and put them under the trees. The cake was enormous, though it had, of course, just two candles on it. The icecream was still being made fresh as the guests arrived, and Gilbert had brought over nuts and berries to put in the icecream, thinking maybe that would make it more interesting to Walter- Gilbert hated for Anne to have spent so much time making ice cream only to have Walter spit it out again.

Tillie and Ruby came together- along with their mothers- and were the first to arrive. Diana came with her mother, too, but Anne was pleased to realize that Mrs. Barry came out of delight in seeing Walter enjoy his birthday, rather than with any intention of inserting herself between Anne and Diana. Rachel Lynde came with her husband and two of their grown, visiting children. Emily and her husband Arnold were there, bringing Clara with them of course, and Clara was dressed beautifully for the occasion. Miss Stacy came, surprising Anne, since she'd thought Miss Stacy had already left to visit her homeplace.

Jane was the last to arrive, and her mother drove her as far as she could. Anne sighed, and, setting Walter down, she went to greet Jane.

Mrs. Andrews was looking out to the grass where Walter was now chasing Clara. "Hello, Mrs. Andrews," Anne said patiently.

"Oh, hello, Anne," Mrs. Andrews said, barely looking at her.

"Jane, thank you for coming," Anne said pleasantly, turning to her friend. "Oh, you look _so _beautiful! I love your new boots! I've never _seen _so many tiny little buttons!"

Jane smiled, but seemed bothered. She slowly climbed down from their carriage and then reluctantly looked at her mother to say goodbye.

Mrs. Andrews didn't make any move to pull away. Finally she asked, "Did he like the rocking horse?"

"He hasn't opened it yet," Anne told her. "It was for his birthday, wasn't it?"

Mrs. Andrews nodded. "So he'll open it later, then? _Today?"_

Jane looked bothered still. "Mother,_ I'll see you later-"_

Mrs. Andrews cut Jane off, suddenly emboldened: "I wondered if you might let me attend the party..."

There was a silence.

"I _suppose _you could stay," Anne said in a crisp voice. "For a _few _minutes."

Then, sounding clipped, Anne went on: "I don't want him to know you are anything besides Jane's mother."

She led Jane and Mrs. Andrews to the group, gesturing for them to sit down.

Walter ran to Jane and threw himself at her happily. Jane reached down to hug him, and Mrs. Andrews hovered.

Walter brought one of his toys to Jane, and Jane got right down on the grass to play with him.

Mrs. Andrews looked as if she hoped she might be able to join in.

Anne said to her, dictatorially, "You can _watch_ him play. You're not to play _with_ him."

Mrs. Andrews felt embarrassed by Anne's treatment of her, but her only other option was to leave, and she couldn't bear to get this close without getting to really interact with this dear little boy.

"This is Aunt Jane's mama," Anne told Walter, brushing that unpleasant wavy hair from his eyes.

She saw the quick look of surprise Mrs. Andrews shot to her.

"He calls _all_ my girlfriends 'aunt'," Anne explained coolly.

A very brief moment of disappointment crossed Mrs. Andrews face before it took on an expression of humble acceptance: Anne was letting her see him, and that didn't have to be allowed- she could not expect anything more.

"Hello, Walter," she said gently, getting almost down to eye level with him. "I'm very glad to meet you."

Walter looked at her for a long moment, then said, "Hi hi."

He pushed that old heirloom rabbit to her and said loudly, "I gotta bunny."

"I see that," Mrs. Andrews murmured, emotional at seeing her own daughter's old rabbit.

Marilla came out with the cake then, lighted, and Anne scooped Walter away from Mrs. Andrews.

"For he's a jolly good fellow," they all sang. Walter blew out the candles and clapped his hands.

Anne would grudgingly admit that Mrs. Andrews rocking horse- that did four things- was the hit of the party, for Walter. It was his favorite gift, and he and Clara had their very first fight over it.

"Now, Clara," Emily murmured, pulling her little girl away, "It's Walter's birthday, and it's his gift, you let him play."

"Walter," Anne said, disagreeing with Emily, "Be nice and let Clara have a turn first. She's your guest, after all."

Walter and Clara were both pouting.

But Clara made such a pretty picture in her pale pink dress and her little blonde ringlets and big eyes, and Walter was reminded again of how much he liked her, and he pushed the rocking horse toward her to have the first try.

Everyone laughed at Walter's blush when Clara hugged him.

"I hope they'll always be friends," Anne told Emily. "Even though they won't be in the same school year."

"Won't they?" Ruby asked.

"Clara was _born _around the same time I...was...was first expecting Walter," Anne explained. "She's nine months older than he is."

"I didn't realize," Diana's mother commented. "She's such a little bit of a thing."

Emily nodded. "I never looked my age, either! They tell me that'll feel like a good thing, eventually!" She smiled. "Anyway, I thought about holding her back a year in school. I think there's a benefit to it. We'll see."

Anne watched Walter and Clara playing happily. ...She found herself interested in seeing her baby get older and make more friends and someday go to school.

* * *

"Well, his first real party is in the books," Gilbert said quietly, after all the people had gone.

They'd long finished cleaning, and Marilla had taken Walter up to Anne's room and gotten him to bed, then gone to bed herself.

Now Anne was sitting curled up on the sofa, writing about Walter's birthday party in his baby memory book, with the new pen Matthew had given her for her graduation.

Gilbert, in no rush to go, lingered. The hazy, golden twilight and the sound of the crickets warming up their instruments for the night, beckoned him to stay. And stay he did, with Anne in the parlor, content with life in general, and wishing that September was _not _just four weeks away.


	145. The Fair

Anne was happy to see the advertisement for the fair, because it meant there was one last thing to look forward to before Gilbert left for Queens.

She was sitting on the floor watching as Walter played blocks with Clara, who was visiting with Emily. Gilbert was there, as he almost always was, and Diana and Ruby had stopped by.

"There's a prize for the prettiest baby," Gilbert said, glancing over the ad Diana brought over. "You just missed the cut off, Anne, or _you'd _win it."

"Har har har," Anne said sarcastically.

"One year they had a beauty pageant for little girls at the fair," Diana commented. "It was a long time ago, I think when we were six or seven."

"Were you in it, Diana?" Anne wanted to know.

"No, my mother said proper young ladies don't parade themselves around in front of people for prizes," Diana told her.

"Well, I'm sure you _would _have won, if you'd been in it," Anne told her.

"Josie Pye won it," Ruby supplied. "They gave her a little rose quartz brooch for winning. She wore that brooch everywhere for months telling anyone who would listen that she was the queen of the fair. She was positively obnoxious about it! Nowadays they only run a baby pageant. You could enter Walter."

Anne shook her head. "He isn't cute," she said flatly.

Then she scolded herself. _I've got to stop saying things like that out loud. He's old enough to know what I'm saying..._

"He's darling, Anne, _everyone _says he's the cutest baby they've seen," Diana argued. "He'd win, I'm sure of it! ...And you'd have to do it _this_ year, because the baby contest is only for age two and younger. He'll be too old next year."

Anne shrugged. She still, even after two years, did not find her baby to be cute. But _other _people did.

...And although a contest based on looks was silly, there was something _interesting_, she couldn't help admitting, about a child of _hers _being considered _beautiful_. But then she shook her head. "I don't want anyone to look at him."

"It's only people in town," Diana pointed out.

Anne shook her head.

Diana sighed, looking down. "All right," she said. "It just seems like a shame, that he'd have to miss out on the prize. There are always _such _good prizes!"

Anne looked over at Emily. "I don't know. Are you going to enter Clara?" she asked.

Emily shook her head. "The contest is rigged," she told Anne.

"How do you know?" Anne asked, surprised.

Emily smiled, impish. "Because I entered her last year and she came in second."

"_Only_ second, eh?" Gilbert asked.

"So you see the injustice," Emily nodded.

They all laughed.

Emily said, "Anyway, I don't want Clara to think that all she's good for is dressing up and looking pretty!"

"That is true. I didn't think of _that_," Anne said slowly. "I mean, I _would_ have, if it was for _women_...but I didn't think of that when it's just _babies_."

Emily went on, "Oh, I don't think you have to consider that aspect: you have a boy, and he'll grow up to do other things in life, after all- business, law, maybe politics...a boy is never told that all he can be is pretty!" Then she said, "If you do decide to enter Walter, try to remember it's all in good fun. _Every _baby is cute, it's really a very silly thing to judge."

"I don't think I will," Anne said. She leaned down and fixed Walter's hair. "It wouldn't be fair to the other babies."

The girls smiled at each other quietly.

"Anne, why don't you enter _yourself _in something?" Diana asked. "There are contests for baking pies...and quilting...and all sorts of things. You've been doing a lot of that sort of thing since you've had to stay home with Walter! Oh, you should bake a _cake! _You made _such _a good cake just last week!"

Anne started to feel interested. She looked more at the ad.

* * *

When it came time for the fair, Anne wore her new pale blue dress and straw hat. She packed her cake into a basket and put a cheesecloth over it. Gilbert carried Walter.

Marilla was enjoying the fair with Rachel and Thomas, and Matthew, who came along only to enter his prize radish, but Marilla told Anne they'd meet her under the pavilion in time for the cake testing.

Anne was breathless with anticipation for her cake to be tasted by the judges. She had watched as each cake was eaten and discussed, but finally_, finally- _it was her turn. Her eyes sparkled as the cake server sliced slowly through the buttercream frosting. As each judge lifted their forks to their mouths, Anne wondered if she had a chance at winning the first prize.

But to her horror, the judges faces turned sour and they- without any regard for manners- spew the cake from their mouths into their napkins, choking.

* * *

"I've been _humiliated_." Anne said as they walked away. She thought she might cry. "Liniment in my cake! I'll never live it down!"

"It was a mistake, one anyone could have made," Gilbert comforted.

"But _anyone _didn't make it. _I _did," Anne moaned. "Why is it always _me?"_

"The baby contest will begin at the main pavilion in five minutes," a man with a megaphone called.

Anne had a sudden impulse and dragged Gilbert and Walter over to the makeshift stage. Marilla, Matthew, Rachel and Thomas looked at each other in surprise.

* * *

Anne was sizing up the competition, but she couldn't tell which babies might win, because in her mind, her own baby wasn't really very cute.

But she was glad she'd dressed Walter in a new outfit and his shoes were shiny and his golden, wavy hair looked especially lovely.

"You have to smile when they look at you," she told him quietly.

"Why?" Walter asked.

"Because I want you to be picked as the prettiest," she explained. Upon having said that, she realized how stupid the entire thing was, and wished she hadn't even brought him over at all.

But it was too late now, because Walter already had a little number 7 clipped to his shirt and the baby pageant judges were in front of them.

* * *

"The judges have finished selecting the prettiest baby," the announcer said after a few minutes. "Winners will be announced at the conclusion of the fair."

Anne frowned. "They don't announce them right away?" she asked. "Then the contest _is _rigged, just like Emily said! If it wasn't, they'd tell us the winner right away."

But then she shook her head. "Oh, it doesn't matter! It's such a _silly _thing to do, I don't know why I put him in it at all!"

They enjoyed the rest of the fair, especially Matthew, who won a prize for his giant radish. Walter was enamored with the radish and wanted to carry it himself, but could not. He thought the radish was something to hold, like his bear or his rabbit, and he wanted to keep it forever and play with it. "Don't tell him it will be eaten," Marilla whispered to Matthew.

* * *

"Don't you want to stay to the end of the fair, Anne?" Marilla asked when Anne said she was ready to go."We haven't heard about the baby prizes."

Anne shook her head. "No, it's all right. Everyone's tired and it's getting late. We may as well go."

"I'm ready," Rachel agreed. "But I think you ought to wait."

Anne sighed.

At the conclusion, the baby contest winners were announced:

"Third prize goes to eighteen month old Albert Bishop! Second prize goes to two-year-old Ethel Lynne Camp! And first prize goes to two-year-old Walter Shirley-Cuthbert!"

Anne decided the contest wasn't rigged after all.

* * *

When Anne was leaving the fair, she met Miss Stacy.

Miss Stacy saw that Anne was carrying a prize in her arms. Delighted, she asked, "Oh, Anne, your cake _won_, didn't it?"

Anne blushed. "Uh- no, my cake didn't win…"

Miss Stacy nodded. "Did you enter something else you made?"

"I suppose in a way, I did enter something else I made," Anne said with a laugh.

* * *

The way home was tiring but happy. Walter gave up his longing to play with Matthew's prize radish, because he had a brand new stuffed animal to play with instead: a giant tiger, big enough to sit on, which he named Radish.

"I'm glad they gave the babies _toys_, in addition to the _real _prizes," Anne said. "When they handed me Walter's prize, I thought, this is very nice- real silver!- and he can _sell _it if he ever needs money- but it isn't something he can have any fun with_._"

Marilla nodded, but she couldn't help secretly laughing at the irony. The first prize Anne was referring to _was_ real silver, all right...a real silver _cake server_.


	146. Mrs Andrews Comes Over

Anne's friends began to talk about their new clothes. Anne saw them for herself one day at Ruby's house- long dresses and corsets were the new thing for Anne's crowd.

They were growing up, and getting ready for Queens.

* * *

Marilla, too, noticed that the other girls Anne's age were beginning to wear long skirts, and one day she said, "We need to start working on new things for you."

"New things?"

"Yes. Long skirts, blouses…"

"I get them too?" Anne asked, sounding fragile.

Marilla was surprised. "Of course. Didn't you think you would?"

"I didn't," Anne said with a sigh. "I suppose it seemed to me it was just another thing that the other girls were doing that I couldn't."

Marilla shook her head. "It isn't _about _college, it's about your _age_. You're growing up, just like they are."

Anne perked up.

Marilla gave her a smile. "So! Let's get you measured and we'll start right away."

Anne couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the fabric Marilla had for her. She thought that the Marilla before her on this day was _not _the Marilla she'd met three years ago. But this she kept to herself.

"I thought," Marilla said softly, holding up the fabric to Anne with a critical eye, "That _royal blue_ would bring out your eyes most beautifully. ...And I was right."

* * *

When Anne's first few things were finished, she felt like a new person.

Marilla almost laughed. "I can't help but think of when you wrapped that big tablecloth around your waist and piled your hair on top of your head, trying to see what you'd look like in grown up clothes."

Anne didn't find that so funny. She, too, remembered that time. She had done it to see if she could make herself look any older. She _knew _she was soon to be embarrassed by a baby of her own, and she was hoping she could somehow manage to look old enough to really have a baby. It hadn't worked; she had looked like a little girl playing dress up.

But today she didn't look so silly in grown up clothes. In fact, she couldn't believe the difference in herself. "I won't look so ridiculous now!"

"Ridiculous?" Marilla asked, frowning.

"With a _baby_. In short skirts and braids and all. Now I'll look like a lady. _Finally_."

* * *

Anne wore her new corset with her old clothes for a few days, getting used to it, before she began wearing the rest of her new clothes. The first day she wore them for good, Mrs. Andrews showed up at her door.

Anne was holding Walter on her hip when she answered the door.

Before she could say anything, Mrs. Andrews said, "My, you look lovely, Anne. I didn't realize you'd grown up so much."

"I'm sixteen," Anne said, holding Walter closer.

There was a silence. "Hi hi," Walter said loudly, waving.

Anne looked at him, silently telling him to be quiet. Walter missed the message and instead threw his arms out toward Mrs. Andrews.

Anne did not let him go to her, and he began whining and wanted down. Finally Anne set him on the floor, and he immediately grabbed onto Mrs. Andrews. Anne did not like this and pulled him back from her before Mrs. Andrews could react. "Is there something you wanted?" Anne asked without any warmth.

Mrs. Andrews looked as if she didn't even know why she was there herself. "You can't be dropping off Jane," Anne pointed out, peering around Mrs. Andrews to the empty buggy.

"I wasn't. I...I just haven't seen you, you weren't in church, and...I suppose I wondered if things were...all right."

Anne sighed. "I had a cold this past week. I didn't want to go to church. And Walter didn't want to go without me."

Mrs. Andrews nodded. "You're feeling better, I hope?"

Anne shifted Walter to the other hip. "Yes," was all she said.

"All right," Mrs. Andrews said slowly, looking as if she didn't want to leave but could not think of any excuse to stick around.

Suddenly Marilla was behind Anne. "Yes?" Marilla asked sharply. "Did you need something?"

Mrs. Andrews shrank back like a frightened animal. "No."

There was another silence.

Anne wanted to shut the door, but Walter seemed enamored with Mrs. Andrews. He reached out for her again. Anne sighed. "Would you like to come in?" she finally asked. Marilla looked at Anne in surprise.

Anne shrugged to Marilla. She felt bad for her baby- he had loved the fair, but then Anne had caught cold, and so Walter had not seen anyone for a whole week, and he missed his usual band of followers. And Anne realized that once everyone went to Queens, Walter's world would grow smaller. He'd still have _her_, of course, and Matthew and Marilla, and he'd still have _Clara _to play with- but Gilbert, Diana, Jane, Ruby and Tillie would all but disappear from his daily life.

...And so she allowed him to have Mrs. Andrews, if that was what he really wanted.

"He thinks you're here to play with him," Anne said, just slightly annoyed. "Because in his experience, _everyone _who comes here, is here to play with him."

"_May_ I?" Mrs. Andrews asked, sounding hopeful.

"I...oh, I suppose," Anne said, giving up. "As long as you don't make any mention of who you really are. ...Walter? Look, Jane's mama, Mrs. Andrews, can play with you."

Walter dragged Mrs. Andrews into the parlor, with Anne following slowly behind.

"What a large tiger," Mrs. Andrews commented, seeing the toy big enough for the toddler to ride on. Though she didn't show it, she was not happy. So far, Walter's largest toy was the rocking horse _she _had gotten for him. And she wanted _her _present to be the biggest and most important. But she didn't say this to Anne. Instead she asked, "Was it a gift?"

"It wasn't a gift, it was a prize," Anne told her matter-of-factly.

"A _prize? _Oh! ...What did you do to win a prize, Walter?"

Walter looked proud of himself, and told her what he had done: "I _smiled!"_

"You smiled?" Mrs. Andrews looked over at Anne for clarification that a two year old could not provide.

"The baby contest at the fair," Anne explained. "He won it."

Mrs. Andrews raised her eyebrows. "Oh, my. We missed it. I didn't know he was going to be in it."

"I didn't know either," Anne admitted. "It was sort of a spur of the moment impulse."

"It certainly paid off, didn't it," Mrs. Andrews murmured. "A lovely new toy! I wish _we'd _seen him in the contest…"

"There wasn't much to see," Anne told her. "It wasn't a show or a parade- the babies don't _do _anything. They're just looked at. And- as Walter said- they smile. Well..._Walter_ smiled. Some of those _other _babies fussed or looked like they didn't know what was going on."

"He certainly knows how to be charming, then," Mrs. Andrews said quietly. After a moment, she asked, her voice full of hope: "Did they happen to photograph the winners?"

"No," Anne said, finding the question odd.

"Well...then...do you think...would you let me have a photograph of him?" she asked almost shyly.

"I don't have any," Anne said.

The Andrews had gone to photographers before to have their pictures made- Anne had seen one of Prissy, Billy, and Jane all dressed up and standing stiff as aboard, looking very solemn, in a dark tinted photograph. It was taken several years ago, when Jane was eleven and Billy was twelve.

Perhaps people like the Andrews did that sort of thing, but Anne had never had a photograph taken of herself, and she hadn't even thought of having one taken of Walter.

Now she was filled with the desire to have a photograph made.

She didn't really mind not having any of when he was a baby, since she at that time was not happy to have him at all and never felt any need to preserve his image on film.

But now he had been with her for a couple of years, and she had at least accepted him into her life, albeit not always easily. She thought by _this _point, it might be nice to have a photograph of him, before he lost his babyish plumpness.

After a moment, Mrs. Andrews spoke up brightly, "I have an idea, then. A _splendid _idea. I hope you will agree to it. Why wouldn't you, since it's clearly in both of our best interests: What about letting _me _take him to get his photograph made?"

"Letting you _take _him?" Anne responded slowly. "Without _me?"_

Mrs. Andrews wanted time with Walter all to herself. But seeing that Anne was already against this, she said quickly, "No, of course not. Of course you'd be along too. We could have a photograph of you with him, mother and baby, wouldn't that be nice?"

"How long does it take?" Anne asked, not answering for sure about whether she'd agree to it.

"Not very long. We could go on Sunday, after church, so he's dressed in his finest. I know the man who does it, he won't mind taking it on a Sunday."

"I could take Walter by myself," Anne told her. "You needn't come at all."

Mrs. Andrews face fell. "Oh," was all she said.

"But if Jane is with us, then I don't mind you coming. Only if Jane is there," Anne declared.

"Of course she'd be happy to come," Mrs. Andrews promised quickly, glad for the chance.

"Well, maybe, then. We'll see," Anne said noncommittally. "How much would it cost?" she suddenly thought of. She had no idea what a photographer charged.

"You don't have to worry about _that_," Mrs. Andrews said. "We would pay for it."

"But then you'll feel it's _yours_," Anne pointed out. "And you shouldn't, because he's _my _baby, and so any picture of him is mine, too."

"Couldn't _we _have one?" Mrs. Andrews asked timidly. "Just one or two?"

"What would you do with it?" Anne asked. She did not really want Walter's picture framed on Mr. and Mrs. Andrews parlor wall.

"I thought it would be nice for Jane to have one to take to Queens with her," Mrs. Andrews said humbly.

Anne felt better. "She'd like that," she agreed.

"You could send one along with Gilbert, too," Mrs. Andrews pointed out. "He's obviously very fond of your baby…"

"He loves Walter," Anne said, her chin up. "And Walter loves _him_."

Mrs. Andrews nodded. She looked sad.

"What did you want the other one for?" Anne asked.

"The other one?"

Anne reminded her: "You said you wanted one or _two_. One is for Jane. What are you going to do with the other one?"

"I'd like to have one," Mrs. Andrews said softly. "Just for me."

"But not up on your wall," Anne said firmly.

"I could tuck it into my Bible," Mrs. Andrews suggested quietly. "So I can see it when I pray. I pray for him, you know. I pray for you both. That you'll be healthy, and that God will grant you peace and happiness."

Walter was impatient, and Anne told her she could go ahead and play with him.


	147. Time to Say Goodbye

"May I…may I see him again?" Mrs. Andrews asked in breathless anticipation, once the photographs had been made.

"Well, I don't know," Anne said hesitantly. "I suppose if it's _brief_…"

Anne was unhappy, and she tried hard not to let her unhappiness spill over onto Mrs. Andrews, because it wasn't Mrs. Andrews' fault.

It had started when Anne had tried to use water to smooth Walter's hair to make it look straight instead of having those waves it had. But it didn't do anything, and the waves were still there. It wasn't that his hair looked bad; on the contrary, it looked absolutely perfect.

And that was what Anne didn't like.

While she thought she _wanted _a photograph of him- because he _was _her baby and he wouldn't stay a baby for very much longer- it occurred to her _after _the photographs were made that this only preserved his image as _a tiny little copy of Billy Andrews_. It was awful, and she wished she hadn't had the photographs made at all.

She had one to give Gilbert, and one for Jane, and of course Mrs. Andrews had hers.

But for the photographs she would take _home _with her, she decided she would put them into his baby book, so that she could close the book and put it away. They could not go on the wall.

* * *

Diana was going to Queens' after all.

Despite bubbling over with excitement, it took her a solid week to tell Anne. She worried Anne would feel even more left behind, but the news actually made Anne feel over the moon happy. Even when things weren't going well for her, she wanted the very best for her bosom friend, and she was delighted Diana wouldn't be left behind from the rest of her class.

Plus, Queens' was not _nearly _as distant as Paris, and she would be able to see Diana much more often.

* * *

On the day Gilbert was to leave, he stayed all day at Green Gables- though this wasn't really so very different from any other day- and before he left, Anne gave him the photograph of Walter to take with him. She was surprised to find Gilbert with tears in his eyes. He set the photograph down on the buggy and picked up Walter instead. Anne wondered if he was ever going to let go of her baby.

He finally did, only to kiss her.

* * *

Matthew and Marilla were watching from the window. "Did you know they were kissing now?" Marilla asked Matthew sharply.

Matthew shook his head.

"Well, I sincerely hope this was the first time," Marilla said. "Because I'd hate to think it's been going on right under our noses!"

Matthew didn't say anything.

As Anne and Gilbert broke apart- only to come back together a moment later- Marilla said briskly, "Really, it's a shameful display!"

Matthew responded, "Don't see what's so shameful about it. ...Thought you'd be glad she's got someone, Marilla."

"She _does _have someone, she has _us_," Marilla said promptly.

"You know that ain't what I meant," Matthew said quietly.

"Oh, Matthew, I _am _glad," Marilla finally admitted. "One of my greatest fears was her ending up alone...making mistakes she'd regret for all of time…"

Matthew took his sister's hand in a quiet gesture of support.

"It's _only _that everything seems to be moving so _fast_. Their talk of marriage, and Gilbert being ready to go to college, and the baby…" She took a steadying breath. "I'm _so _full of gratitude to God for her already _knowing _she has a future of love and happiness, marriage and family. So, _so _grateful. But…" she broke off helplessly. "It feels as though we're being left behind."

Matthew took a deep breath. "We don't want to hold her back."

"No, we don't," Marilla agreed.

He squeezed her to him. "You know, her and Gilbert getting ready for a life together don't mean her life with us has to come to an end. We'll always be here for her."

Marilla tried to wipe her eyes inconspicuously. "Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could keep her a little girl."

Matthew shook his head. He turned from the window, and reminded her:

"But then we wouldn't get to meet the woman she's become."


	148. Saving the Baby Bed, and Gilbert Gone

Thank you to littlecheese518 for being my 400th review! Thank you to everyone who leaves a review. It really does mean so much to me! Writing takes so much time and energy and thought, and when someone decides to leave me a comment it just propels me to want to write even more. I really do appreciate everyone here :)

* * *

The day after Gilbert left, a large package arrived.

"Walter's new bed is here," Marilla remarked to Matthew. "I didn't realize Anne had chosen one and ordered it already."

The first time they needed to get a bed- before Walter was born- Anne had to be prompted to look for one at all, and Marilla had been the one to fill out the order form and send the money in. Anne was fourteen, and had never ordered anything from a catalog before.

Now, she was sixteen and had not even mentioned to Marilla or Matthew that she'd ordered a new bed. It just came in the mail suddenly. Marilla knew that filling out a mail order form was really a very _small _thing, but to Marilla it just reminded her that now, Anne was able to get things done without her parents' input.

But Marilla was glad to see Matthew putting the bed together for her. He and Anne sat on the floor in her room, the nails, hammer, and screws strewn about the floor, the instruction sheet between them.

_She still has a need for us, a little bit, anyway,_ she thought.

* * *

Anne asked what she should do with Walter's crib.

"The church might know of some poor couple who can't purchase a baby bed," Marilla thought of. "Or, if you think you need some money, you could try to sell it."

Anne shook her head. "When I asked what I should do with it, I meant where to _put _it," she explained. "I was going to move it to the cellar, but I was afraid the dampness would ruin it. Should I move it to the spare room? ...I _could _just leave it in _my _room where it is, but it'll feel too crowded with Walter's new bed in there. And I don't want him trying to climb on it."

Marilla was surprised. "I didn't know you intended to keep it."

She remembered how, when they planned to take Walter to the Warren's farm, Anne wanted to get rid of the bed. She told Marilla that she wouldn't be needing it anymore after Walter left them. Marilla had encouraged her to _not _to get rid of his bed, then, pointing out that even if she wasn't going to keep Walter here at Green Gables, she'd still likely need a baby bed in the future after she married. But Anne had been firm in saying that she would never _need _a baby bed. She stated matter-of-factly that she was unable to have intimate relations and that was all there was to it; she and Gilbert would not be able to have any children of their own.

"Well," Anne said today. "I think I ought to hang onto it."

"Oh?" Marilla asked, trying not to sound as if she was too interested.

"Yes," Anne said slowly. "Because I don't want to have to buy another one later."

"You...think you might be in need of one later?"

"I don't know," Anne said honestly. "But _maybe_."

Marilla held back her smile until Anne had left to move her cradle into the spare room.

* * *

Anne showed Walter his new bed.

"Your old bed is for babies, and you're big enough now to have a _real _bed, like mama has."

Walter was not a fan of his new bed. But he did not want his old one, either. What he really wanted was to stay right by Anne's side.

But Anne would not let him fall asleep in _her _bed, because she worried that if she allowed it even once, it would be too hard to get him to go to sleep alone in his new bed after that.

Once Walter had gotten settled in his new bed- after three stories, two songs, and his back being rubbed- Anne flopped down onto her own bed with his baby book. She set the bottle of ink on her bedside table, hoping she wasn't being foolhardy by thinking she could lay on her bed to write. She moved past the pages she'd pasted Walter's photographs in, and turned to a fresh page:

_The Day You Had Your First Photograph Made_, she wrote.

_I was so excited to get a photograph taken of you. I wish I'd had one taken even earlier, but I had never thought of such a thing. We went on Sunday after church, because you were already dressed nicely and right in town. You had on a cream colored outfit, and your hair was so lovely looking. You really are the perfect baby, I hope you know. You did a good job standing still for as long as it took, and when it was over I told you I was proud of you. We gave one of your photographs to Gilbert to take away with him to college, and one for Aunt Jane since she'd be away too and would miss you terribly. Aunt Jane's mama got one...she just likes you a lot, is all. And of course we saved some for your baby book. I really wanted to put them up on the wall so I could see them all the time, but I worried they'd get faded in the sun, so I decided to keep them hidden in the pages of this book instead. When you see your old photographs someday, you'll see why you were chosen as the prettiest baby at the fair. _

Anne was done with that, and put it away. She got out a fresh sheet of paper, to write to Gilbert.

The next day, she put it in the mail, giving the envelope a quick kiss because she would not kiss him herself, and the envelope that would soon be in his hands was the closest she could come to.

* * *

Waiting on a visit from Gilbert was excruciating.

"Guh-buh," Walter said every day, standing at the front door, staring out at nothing.

"Guh-buh can't-" Anne stopped herself and shook her head. "_Gilbert_ can't come just now, Walter. He's very busy with school."

But Walter did not understand, and after only three days without Guh-buh, he became inconsolable. He became needy and weepy, often whining and fussing for no apparent reason.

Anne was frustrated with him. But eventually _she _cried, too. "Walter, he _can't _be with us right now," she told him, sniffling.

Seeing his mama upset only made him further upset.

"Guh-buhhh," Walter cried. Anne cuddled him, but he cried and cried until he fell asleep.

After that, Walter stayed glued to Anne's side, as if he was afraid that she, too, might leave him.

Anne felt awful- Walter was going through some sort of grieving process, but she could not help him, and _he _could not grasp why Gilbert, who had been with him every day, was suddenly not.

She knew Gilbert would visit on weekends, but Walter did not understand calendars and clocks yet, and the days, to him, stretched out for ages, with no end that he understood.


	149. The First Letter at Queens

_Dear Anne_

_My love, my darling, my sweetness how I long to feel your warm arms around me. How I long to feel your soft lips pressed to mine. _

_Still, if we must be parted I will do my best to work hard and make it all worth the while. _

_I start my classes tomorrow, and while it is daunting it is also exciting. There are a few chaps in the dorms nearby and I hear them wolf whistling and jeering each other and I feel their excitement, yet at a remove. They are talking about seeing the girls who live nearby and imagining how they might get to know them. I, of course, know who I wish to marry already- it is you dear Anne, only you._

_How is Walter, is he missing his Guh-buh? I can still taste his pudgy cheek from when I last kissed him goodbye. I am a bit lonely tonight, I will admit and the thought of him and you and all that we might be in the future is what is keeping me going. If it were not for that, I might run straight back to Avonlea and while I cannot deny that it is tempting, my resolve to stay and see this through is firm._

_The parting was awful hard, Anne. But we must set our resolve and think of the future together...One day we will be together properly, and set up a house together, just the three of us and then we will never be parted again._

_I know it hurts my darling, but being away at Queens makes me think you made the right decision to stay at home with Marilla and Matthew when I eventually must go on to Redmond. I think you would have been very lonely with me gone all day and then studying hard at night. I fear I would not be much company. Better by far to stay in Avonlea where the folks understand your situation. I fear not everyone here would be as sympathetic._

_I went shopping when I arrived yesterday, you will find a small treat here. This is just a small token of my affection. I warn you though, don't go expecting too many treats, I can't afford to spend too much money, mores the pity. You know I would love to buy you trinkets every day if I could._

_I love you, I love you. I love you. I could never say it enough._

_Your Gilbert_

_P.S._

_Please thank Marilla for the care package which arrived today. So many delicious treats from home, even raspberry cordial and plum puffs which are perfectly fresh and not remotely stale. Tell her my belly is full because they were so delicious I had to eat them all in one go. I hope this news makes her happy._

* * *

_Dearest Gilbert,_

_I love you. It seems that that one sentence is all that must be said, really. But of course I don't stop with one sentence, do I?_

_I helped Marilla make the plum puffs, I'll have you know. Knowing you thought they were good gives me joy. I admit I once considered "housewife" type of things to be drudgery, but I'm now finding that when you love someone SO much, it really is a delight to make things lovely for them. I can imagine our happy little home, sitting by the hearth, cozy on winter evenings, meals and laughter...the future cannot come soon enough._

_I envision you sitting in your classes, working hard, your pen poised over your composition book, learning all there is to know, and making me proud. One year at Queens isn't that long (I keep telling myself) but even though I miss you so, I hope condensing the program into one year won't be too taxing for you. I know you wanted to do it in one year so that you could go to Redmond sooner, finishing your education sooner to begin your career, but you mustn't let our impatience to start our life together cause you undue burden. _

_I have a lot to say- thanking you for the little gift you sent- but first Walter wants to say hello:_

Gilbert smiled and touched the inky handprint Anne had left him by pressing Walter's little hand against the paper.

_Walter wants you to know he misses you._

* * *

Thank you to the lovely and talented Oz Diva who is collabing with me to make Gilbert's letters to Anne as romantic and lovey dovey as possible. You really should go check out her work, she has awesome stories about Marilla and John ending up together. ...

She and I have some more to say through these letters between Anne and Gilbert ...I'm sorry to say what is coming in Anne's next letter is far from pleasant. Don't hate me please ;)


	150. Bad to Worse

Anne was lying on the parlor sofa with Walter lying on top of her. His head was tucked under hers, his little arms wrapped around her neck. He had fallen asleep, and his breathing was slow. Her collarbone was damp with his tears.

Anne felt awful. She knew, being asleep, that he wouldn't know, but she squeezed him tighter, and whispered that she loved him.

Marilla came in, looked at the two of them, and sighed. "Anne, you must stop moping!"

Anne whispered, her voice hoarse, "_I'm_ not moping." She started to sit up, rolling Walter off of her and cradling him on her lap instead. "_I_ could cope with Gilbert leaving. I could. What I _can't _cope with is _this_." She gestured down at Walter.

Marilla looked at him. He was a pitiful creature these days.

Anne said, "I didn't know he was going to _be _this way..." and her eyes filled with tears.

Marilla came closer. She looked sad. "_I_ didn't know, either. I knew it would be an _adjustment_. But…"

Walter started waking up. Anne stroked his hair and squeezed him closer to her. He made no move at all and just sat, still clinging to her with his arms clasped tightly around her.

Anne _already _felt sorry for her son a great deal of the time: She felt sorry for Walter that his 'father'- _who was only his father in the technical sense_\- didn't care about him a bit...not that he would be welcome in his life even if he _did _care. She felt sorry for Walter that he'd spent so much of his life being unwanted by his mother. She felt sorry for Walter that his own mama didn't even really like _looking _at him. ...In fact, one reason she liked to hold Walter close is that she couldn't see his face at all if he was snuggled against her.

Marilla felt sorry for Walter too. "I have an idea. Why don't you put him into the church nursery? It will be good for him to socialize with other small children."

"He has Clara," Anne replied, disinterested.

"_More_ than Clara," Marilla pressed. "Having his own friends will mean he has more people _here in town_. Try it. On Sunday, drop him off instead of bringing him to church with us."

Anne shrugged. "What if he doesn't _like _it? What if he doesn't understand why I _left _him there?" Her eyes were threatening to fill up with tears again: "Maybe he'll think I'm not coming back, that I'm leaving him, just like _Gilbert _left…"

Marilla sighed. "Go get him changed into something nice," she told Anne. "You too. Dry your tears and try not to look so melancholy! We'll go into town."

"What for?" Anne asked, her tone depressed.

"I have my sewing circle this afternoon. You'll come with me. And Walter can sit with the babies there and that'll give him an introduction to being with them. Then, come Sunday, he'll be _excited _to see his new little friends in the nursery and he won't miss you."

Anne looked at Walter. "What do you think? Do you want to go make some new friends?"

Walter didn't respond for a moment, and then nodded, rubbing his eyes.

Anne scooped him up and took him upstairs to get him looking nicer to go into town.

* * *

"Anne is joining me today," Marilla told her group. "And she's brought Walter to meet the other little ones."

The ladies who had babies and small children smiled at Walter and invited Anne to set him down on the blanket where the other little ones were playing with each other.

Anne did, but sat with him there for several minutes before standing up to join the ladies.

The sewing circle bored Anne, and all she did was stare at Walter, to the point that she was not keeping up her share in the work to be done.

But Walter had fun, and as he'd never had a baby friend besides Clara, a playgroup was new to him.

"On Sunday when we go to church," Anne told him when they left, "You can stay with the others in the nursery. And when church is over I'll come back and get you."

She hoped Walter would understand this.

* * *

But that night, Walter came down with a fever. His nose became stuffy, he had pressure in his head, and his ears ached.

Anne was upset. "This is what comes of letting him _mingle_ with _strangers_," she told Marilla. "All kinds of diseases! I shouldn't have allowed it. That little three year old girl, Rosa Breathwaite, did you _see _her? She sneezed right _on _him!"

As she complained, she was boiling water.

Anne sat up with him all right, holding him over the pot on the stove, because it was the only way he could breathe.

* * *

In the morning they were both exhausted. Walter's fever had not gone, and he still couldn't breathe.

Matthew fetched the doctor.

* * *

Doctor Carter broke the bad news: "Bronchitis, I'm afraid."

Anne put a pot of coffee on immediately.

"I know you're tired," Marilla began, "But I don't want you drinking coffee."

"Gilbert drinks coffee," Anne commented.

"Well, that's different," Marilla said.

"How is that different?" Anne demanded. "Anyway, it isn't for me, it's for Walter."

"Coffee for a baby?" Marilla frowned. "What on earth?!"

But Dr. Carter agreed with Anne. "Strong coffee is a remedy for bronchitis."

* * *

Walter did not want coffee.

"Why don't you put some sugar and cream into it? Or mix it with lots of milk?" Marilla suggested. "That way it won't taste so bad."

Anne shook her head. "It has to be black," she explained. "And strong."

But Walter cried and tried to push himself away from the mug, and Anne began to cry, too. "You _have _to drink it, Walter," she said through her tears. "You _have _to."

But the more Walter cried, the more Anne cried.

"What did you do with the Hammond children?" Marilla asked her. "Did they ever get bronchitis?"

"I just told them they had to drink it," Anne told her. "I was firm with them and insisted. I didn't listen to their fussing."

Then she crumbled. "But I can't bear to see Walter _unhappy_."

Marilla began to doubt that coffee was a wise treatment for bronchitis, but the doctor surely must know what he was doing, and she believed Anne did too. Marilla recalled that Doctor Carter had treated Anne's melancholy in the past by having Marilla give her alcohol to drink several times a day. She hadn't liked that advice either, but had to admit she kept alcohol on hand "for medicinal purposes", and that certainly was a medicinal situation. She felt she was fortunate that Anne had developed no taste for alcohol. Nevertheless, the experiment was quickly abandoned. She hoped Walter would not need coffee for long.

* * *

Anne cried and cried because Walter's little body shook with chills, though he was flaming hot to the touch. Anne couldn't stop herself from worrying he'd get so sick he'd die.

"You're exhausted," Marilla told her when Walter had fallen asleep. "Go to bed and I'll keep watch over him."

"Oh, Marilla," she sobbed. "What if he dies!"

Marilla looked shocked. "Don't say such a thing. He isn't going to die."

"He _could_, couldn't he?" she said, fresh tears coming. "I've only had him for two years!"

"And you'll have him for plenty more," Marilla said, her voice steady. "Don't think such somber thoughts. It won't do him any good."

But Anne was inconsolable. "I don't understand God. Why would he make me go through having a baby this way, if he was just going to take him _away _from me two years later?"

"_Guh-buhhh,_" Walter moaned in his sleep. Anne burst into tears.

"_Anne_," Marilla said, "That is _enough_. Go to bed. _Right now."_

* * *

In the morning Walter was _much _better. His fever had broken, he could breathe on his own, his head wasn't pressured, and he had stopped rubbing his ears.

But Anne was as sick as she could be.


	151. It Continues

"I _can't _be sick," she choked. "Gilbert will be home _tomorrow_."

Marilla patted her head with a wet cloth. "Just rest, dear. Maybe you'll be all better by tomorrow."

"I don't want Gilbert to take the chance of getting sick." Anne's voice was hoarse.

When Gilbert came home, he had not yet gotten word that Anne was ill. He couldn't wait to get to her, but Marilla met him at the door and told him Anne had bronchitis and he could not come in to see her.

"Anne doesn't want you to take the chance of getting sick," she explained. "Not when you'll have so much school work to keep up with."

Gilbert was not going to be dissuaded.

He stuck around the house anyway, even though Marilla wouldn't let him see his beloved. He had one bright spot, and that was Walter.

Walter, though better, was still recuperating. He was emotional due to being so lethargic.

"Guhhh-buhhh," he moaned as he clung to Gilbert. Gilbert held him the entire day, only leaving him to use the privy. Even when they ate, Gilbert held Walter on his lap.

At the end of the day, Gilbert reluctantly got ready to go back to his own house. But Walter clung to his legs and began to throw his first temper tantrum.

"He's had a miserable week," Marilla muttered. "Don't feel badly, Gilbert, it isn't anything you caused. It's just how it is."

Gilbert got down to eye level with him. "I'm going to come back tomorrow," he promised softly, stroking Walter's honey blonde hair.

"Nooooo," Walter screamed, stamping his feet.

Gilbert felt like crying. How could he leave?

"Gilbert," Marilla finally said, "Why don't you just stay here with us? Unless you really want to be in your own house…"

Gilbert shook his head. He loved his house- but his house was empty; all the people he loved in the world were right here at Green Gables.

"Thank you, ma'am," he told Marilla softly. "Walter, I'm going to go home and get some clean clothes and things to stay overnight. All right? I'll be right back."

"Dohhh goooo," Walter screamed, his face turning red and his tears rolling down his chubby little cheeks.

Gilbert realized that Walter did not understand _time- _he did not know that Gilbert could be right back, all _he_ knew is that when Gilbert went _away_, he did not come back for a long time.

"Could I bring him with me?" Gilbert asked suddenly.

Marilla let him.

Gilbert scooped Walter up and took him out to his buggy. Walter was still screaming and kicking. "It's all right," he said softly, holding him close.

He got into the buggy. He held Walter on his lap as he drove. Walter eventually stopped crying, finding interest in the drive.

"See? Everything's all right. We'll go to my house together, and then we'll come right back home."

"Doh go way," Walter begged.

Gilbert felt awful.

Once inside, Walter toddled around looking at everything with interest; it was not very often that he came to Gilbert's house.

Gilbert packed up some things as quickly as he could. Then he had an idea. He took the sheets off his bed and rolled them up. He stuck them in his bag.

When he returned _home- _because he could not think of Green Gables as anything _but _home, despite the fact that he didn't actually live there- he unpacked his things into the spare room, except for the sheets, which he took into Anne's room.

"Anne?" he whispered, coming into her bedroom. He'd pleaded with Marilla to be let in just for a moment, and she relented.

But Anne barely heard him. She thought she was dreaming. Realizing it was truly Gilbert who was there, she slowly opened her eyes.

"_Anne_," he said again, the name feeling wonderful on his lips.

"Go away," she whispered hoarsely, though the words made tears come to her eyes because she did not mean them.

Gilbert ignored that, sitting down beside her, stroking her fevered head. "I've missed you so much," he whispered.

"_Mamaaa_," Walter said, crying again. Anne had not let him near her since her fever began.

Anne pushed her baby away. "Take him out of here. He's getting better. I don't want him worse!"

Gilbert didn't move at first.

"Go!" Anne tried to snap, but it came out choked and she began coughing.

Gilbert, far from going, began rubbing her back. "He won't get sick again," he told her. "And neither will I. Let us stay _with _you, love."

Anne felt guilty, but could not protest, because his presence was healing- and selfish as it was, she couldn't insist.

* * *

Gilbert sat by her the rest of the afternoon and evening, holding Walter- now asleep- on his lap, and rubbing Anne's back because whenever he stopped, she coughed and heaved.

Marilla brought in soup for Anne and meatloaf and potatoes for Gilbert and Walter. Despite Marilla's instinct to mother Anne, she regretfully let Gilbert be the one to help Anne with her soup, because she knew that they'd have precious little time together as he'd have to go back the following day.

Eventually Marilla returned, to collect Walter, who needed a bath. When she brought him back, he was fresh and clean, dressed in his pajamas, drowsy and yawning.

"Time to go to sleep" Gilbert whispered. Gilbert put the bedsheets he'd brought from his house onto Walter's bed. They were too big for the little bed, but that was all right. Walter fell asleep almost immediately, comforted by the smell of his Guh-buh. Gilbert hoped the sheets would help Walter through the time he'd be away. He planned to tell Anne to stop by his house any time to find other things of his that Walter could take to bed with him.

Gilbert continued sitting by Anne's side, holding a cloth to her sweaty forehead- listening to her raspy breathing and the moaning in her sleep- until finally Marilla quietly opened the door and told him he needed to come out and go to bed.

It took Gilbert a long time to leave her.

* * *

Church the next morning was an impossibility.

Anne's fever had broken and Walter was fully restored, but they both needed rest.

Marilla helped Anne up and got a bath ready for her- heating water over the hearth and filling the tub, and staying right there so she could keep adding hot water as long as Anne was in it- while Gilbert changed the sheets on her bed since they'd been soaked through as Anne sweated out the fever.

He read to Walter until Anne came back. "_The Story of the Mysterious Wapallumpooley,"_ he began, smiling because Anne was sharing her imagination with her son.

When Anne came back upstairs, rosy and scrubbed, with wet hair and her robe wrapped snugly around her nightgown, Gilbert held out his arms to her and she fell into them.

"Can you imagine this before?" she laughed, getting underneath her covers. "Marilla letting me have a _boy _on my bed like this? I bet _she _can't believe it herself!"

Gilbert pulled the covers up over her and smoothed them down. "I'm sorry, in a way," he admitted. "Because all of the changes mean things didn't go _right _in our lives. I _should _be standing outside on your front porch, too nervous to knock on the door, afraid you won't accept my offer to come calling. You'd have beaus lined up hoping for your affections-"

Anne laughed.

"You _would_," Gilbert insisted. "And I'd just be praying that someday you'd decide to like _me_... I'd probably be acting like a fool hoping you'd _notice _me! And if you ever finally _accepted _me, we'd be going to dances and taking walks...and Matthew and Marilla would make us have a _chaperone _everywhere we went and they'd worry about us getting _too close _to each other-"

"Then it was worth it," she interrupted, leaning into him. "Every awful thing, if it let us get close faster. Because I don't want anyone not letting us be close to each other."

Gilbert closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of her.

But they did have a chaperone, in a way- Walter squeezed himself right between them and stayed there.


	152. Mrs Andrews' Betrayal

All right, here comes the bad stuff I warned you about...

* * *

My dear Gilbert,

Thank you _so _much for staying here even though we could have gotten you sick. I hope you don't, I'd be beside myself with guilt. ...I'm so glad I haven't gotten Marilla or Matthew sick.

Did your week start well? _We _haven't done a thing _here _but rest.

I thought of putting Walter in the church nursery next week- I would have last week if he hadn't gotten sick- and Marilla thinks it'll be good for him to make friends of his own- but now I'm worried he'll catch illness. I'm absolutely positive he wouldn't have gotten sick if I hadn't let him join the children in the sewing circle! I don't know. What do you think I ought to do?

I got a letter from Diana. She's so happy to be at Queens.

I'll have to-

Gilbert, I'm sorry for the giant ink blot above. It makes my letter look untidy, but I can hardly concern myself with tidiness now! I am _livid_. Absolutely _livid!_ I wanted to keep my letters to you pleasant so that I wouldn't worry you when you have so many other concerns, but- ugh! I can't. Forgive me.

Today I found out something that- oh, it's so awful, Gilbert, I can't bear to write it!

I was in the middle of writing this letter when Jane came to the door. She asked me if I would come over to her house. I haven't been to her house at all because- well, I don't really need to explain myself, do I? But _today _I thought, you know, _Jane _is my _friend_. Why shouldn't I get to spend time with her at her house; why should _she _always have to come _here?_ She came home on a day she didn't have any classes, and it should have been a lovely surprise to get to have her for a short time.

And Billy isn't there anymore, so I don't have him to think of. _Prissy's _been so much kinder and seems to stand up for me, things aren't awkward between us anymore.

As for Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, well, I can't have everything- Mr. Andrews is not in favor of me (though he _did _put together Walter's birthday present, which confused me) but _Mrs_. Andrews _really_ seems to want to make things right between us. Or at least, I _thought _she did!

Well, _Mr_. Andrews wasn't going to be home- only Jane, Prissy, and _Mrs_. Andrews were- so I decided to go over with Jane after all. When I got there, Mrs. Andrews told us she'd just baked cookies and would we like some? While we were sitting in the parlor, I noticed the mail on the table. Jane didn't appear to notice it, but I certainly did. I _knew _they get letters from Billy, but we never talk about that. But the mail on the table was from _him_\- I could see the postmark and the name on the envelope, and the pages of his letter were spread out. I felt like I'd be sick, but that was _nothing _compared to what happened _next_.

Mrs. Andrews came back with the tray and tea besides and when _she _saw that _I'd _noticed what was on the table, she set the tea tray down with a rattling thunk and began hurriedly folding up the papers and pushing them back into the envelope. She was going on nervously about "getting all this mess out of the way so we could enjoy our tea", and as she was trying to fold up the papers and move them- Gilbert- something _fell out. _Do you want to know what it _was? _It was _Walter's photograph_. I said, "Why is Walter's photograph inside _a letter you got from your son?"_ and Mrs. Andrew face went white and she tried to stammer out something but I interrupted her: "He couldn't be mailing the photograph _back to you _unless you first mailed it _to him!" _She didn't even know what to say. I went on, "Is _that _why you wanted photographs made of him, Mrs. Andrews? So that you could let Billy _see _him?" I felt like I was going to be sick, and I rushed from the house and came straight home. I collapsed into Marilla's arms and wept. I could not even tell her what was happening, I was so _anguished_. When I could speak at last, I told her that Mrs. Andrews' secret goal all this time had been to make it so that Billy could _look at him_. Mrs. Andrews rushed over while I was spilling my heart out to Marilla, and she begged to be let in to speak to me, but Marilla wouldn't hear of it and sent her away. I don't know what to do, Gilbert. I am so very angry. But I've cried all the tears I can cry on poor Marilla, and now all that's left is fury.

I shouldn't burden you with my troubles when you have studying to do. But I don't know what to do. I think I'm going to cry again. But I'm so, so very angry.

I love you Gilbert…

Anne


	153. Mrs Andrews' Hope

Thank you to wonderful Oz Diva for her collab with me:

* * *

Anne-

Oh darling, what a shock for you. I know you were initially hesitant about giving a photo of Walter to Mrs Andrews. No wonder you fled back home. I wish it were my arms you could flee to, but I can well picture you in Marilla's warm comforting arms. She is such a blessing.

I am livid on your behalf.

Mrs Andrews betrayed you, there are no two ways about it. She knows how you feel about Billy, and how you want him to have no part in Walters life. Judging by Billy's reaction the feeling is mutual, which is a good thing I suppose.

I am so pleased Marilla interceded and turned Mrs Andrews away. You know the more I think about it the happier I am you are home at Green Gables, as hard as it is to be parted; it comforts me so much to know you are being cared for by Marilla and Matthew.

I know you have had more than your share of suffering and hard times Anne, but what a lucky day it was when you fetched up on the Green Gable doorstep. God knew what He was doing when he contrived that. I can imagine no better parents for you than those two. Marilla is always so supportive of you...and us. I rather wish I had seen her send Mrs Andrews off, Marilla in full flight is a wonder of nature.

To answer your earlier questions, I am pleased to report that I am perfectly healthy. My Blythe's constitution was not worried by a little cough.

You mustn't keep Walter from other children, he has to build up his constitution and the only way to manage that is to introduce him to the wider world.

As to keeping your letters only pleasant, _please _don't feel you must; I want to know everything, the good _and _the bad. How else can I trust you, if you only share the good times?

I will see you all this Friday night. I hope you can settle down a little my darling...your rage is certainly deserved, but it is tiring to be angry all the time, and you are still recuperating.

I remain yours always,

Gilbert

* * *

Darling Gilbert-

First of all, _I love you_. Those three words seem too small, too insignificant to convey the enormity of feeling for you. I smiled when I read that you wished it was _your_ arms I could flee to. Matthew and Marilla may fill that role now and I love them more than words can say, but when you replace them as the arms I flee to, I know I will be just as dearly cared for.

I am so glad you are healthy. I have decided to take your advice on Walter starting the nursery. I am ever conscious of him catching illnesses from other children, but your point about his constitution never building is valid and did concern me.

You say I will see you Friday night- it cannot come soon enough. I live for Fridays, Gilbert. As does Walter, but you musn't feel bad over his melancholy. I am keeping him very busy, and every night he goes to sleep snuggled on your bedsheets. I appreciate your comment to me as you left to go back to school- about how I could always take Walter back to your house and let him choose things of yours to take home with him. I did just that, and he chose one of your shirts. He has slept with it every night, his little face pressed to the fabric, breathing in your scent, and has cried much less as a result.

And now I want you to know what happened after my upset. I overheard Marilla recounting her tale to Matthew- they had shut themselves up in Matthew's room, no doubt in an effort to keep me from hearing what they said:

So I already told you about how Mrs. Andrews came over and tried to talk, but Marilla refused to let her in. Well, after things calmed a bit and Marilla was done with holding my trembling form, she marched over to their house and pounded on the door, which was answered by a frightened Mrs. Andrews. Marilla demanded Walter's picture back immediately. Mrs. Andrews tried to argue and explain herself away, but Marilla wouldn't hear it. "The photograph," she insisted, her hand outstretched.

Mrs. Andrews finally retrieved it. Marilla said, once it was safely in her own hands, "I suppose it is fortunate your son has no desire to _keep _the photograph. Sad as it is for poor Walter not to be cared about in the slightest, at least it means we got the photo back!"

Mrs. Andrews said that Billy was never supposed to _keep _the photograph- in her letter, she had told Billy, "This photograph is the only one I have of him, so after you've looked at it, please mail it back to me in your next letter." And he _did _mail it back to her. As if that was supposed to make us feel better!

Marilla asked her why on earth she wanted Billy to look at the photo in the first place, and Mrs. Andrews said that she hoped if Billy saw how much Walter resembled him, he'd feel more interested in him, and maybe things could...

And then I heard no more, because Marilla lowered her voice to tell him the rest.

I was collecting the rocking horse, the christening gown, books and even Jane's picnic set in my arms and other things they gave. I had dumped them by the front door when Marilla finally came out and asked what I was doing. I told her I was getting _rid_ of all the things the Andrews had given Walter. I even wanted to get rid of the tiger, since him winning it had been what prompted her to want his photograph made. I wanted nothing they'd touched. Marilla stopped me. I was _fuming_, but she said, "If you do that, you'll be punishing Walter, not the Andrews." I disagreed but Marilla told me, "Will you _tell _Walter you threw away his toys? Or will you just ignore him as he looks and looks all over the house for them and cries when he can't find his toys anywhere?" I admit I pouted. She was right. No matter how much I detest those wretched things now, I cannot take my baby's toys away from him. Marilla suggested, "Why don't I put those things in my room? He can play in there, so you won't have to look at them." That was an acceptable compromise, if I must make one. I'm still grumbling as we speak.

I then asked Marilla what she had talked about when she'd been at the Andrews. I confessed I'd been listening when she and Matthew spoke with the door shut, and I expected her to be angry at my behavior but instead she let out a weary sigh and patted my arm, gesturing for me to sit down with her.

She told me that Mrs. Andrews had sent the photograph to Billy to look at and she had requested he mail it back to her after that. He wasn't supposed to keep it.

"But why did she want him to see it _at all,_" I whined.

She took a long time to answer. Finally she said, "Mrs. Andrews wants to be in Walter's life-"

I interrupted immediately, "Well she's not going to anymore!" but Marilla shushed me and kept going:

"I'm telling you what she _said_, Anne. She wants to be in Walter's life; she can't help but consider him her _grandchild-" _Marilla swallowed and took a great effort to say that awful word- "But- if her grandchild had come to her through _normal _means- her son marrying for love and having children with his _wife_\- then Mrs. Andrews would get to be a _grandmother _and see her grandchild _all _the time. The situation would be so much easier that way."

"Of _course_ the situation would be easier that way. But that's not how it _is_. And it's not _my _fault that _he_ did things all wrong!" I said hotly.

"Yes," Marilla said patiently. "Anne, she doesn't blame _you _for putting her in this difficult situation. She blames Billy."

"Then why on earth is she doing this to _me?" _I asked, beginning to cry.

Marilla reached out for me and pulled me close. "This is upsetting...Oh, Anne, Mrs. Andrews thought that if she could _change_ the situation…"

"Change it _how?"_ I asked, crying.

"She knows that you and _Gilbert _are likely to marry and then Walter will have a father...and Billy _can't _be his father, and...she's jealous…"

_I could tell where this was going!_

"She got it into her head that if she could manage to make Billy interested in Walter, then Billy would want to...well...if _you _and _Billy_..."

I sat up, incensed. "She thinks- she _actually _thinks- that I'm going to somehow decide Billy and I would be good _together_\- that we could be a nice little _family?"_

"I hate to tell you that, darling- but that's what she was hoping for," Marilla said, looking sorry.

"Oh how nice for her," I practically spat.

I'll write to you with nicer things but for now I am so angry I can't think. How could she think I'd want to marry someone who caused me harm, what's more, how could she think I'd turn away from the man _who has cherished me so?_

_Loving you more than ever-_

Anne


	154. Gilber Comes Home

Jane tried to come by, hoping there was some way to rectify the situation, and though Anne hated for Jane to always be in the middle, she could not handle Jane at present and refused to see her.

Marilla asked Jane, at the door, to return _her _copy of Walter's photograph, too.

The request stung.

Marilla tried to soften it by saying that none of them blamed Jane, but that Anne couldn't chance Jane's photograph ever making its way into her mother's hands.

Jane did not protest. She had it on her dresser in their boarding house dorm at Queens, but she'd mail it back to Marilla when she returned to school the next morning.

* * *

Anne left Walter home and went for a walk.

She ended up at the brook, and after greeting it heartily, she lay down on the soft grass and stared up at the robin's egg blue sky.

She could finally lay down outdoors, and it was a beautiful thing.

She watched birds as they flew, landing in nearby branches and singing merrily. Squirrels raced up and down the trees, gathering up their food in their cheeks. A toad was burping nearby on the bank.

She stayed there for a long time.

* * *

When she returned to the house, the rocking horse had been moved into Marilla's bedroom.

Anne came into the room softly, shutting the door behind her. Marilla looked up from where she sat on the bed.

Anne climbed onto the bed and sighed, dropping with a thud next to Marilla.

For a moment she stared at Walter, who was playing happily, without a care in the world. _He _had no idea of the struggles that were going on all around him- the struggles that were going on _because _of him. He laughed as the rocking horse zipped back and forth.

"Did you have a nice walk?" was all Marilla said, though she had not enjoyed being thrown off kilter by Anne's plopping on her bed.

"Yes," Anne said. She turned to look up at Marilla. "I want to move," she said sadly.

Marilla looked at her in surprise. "Move?"

"Somewhere away from Avonlea," she whispered.

Marilla understood, _but- _"We can't pick up a farm and put it down somewhere else."

"Maaaama," Walter pleaded, throwing himself at Anne. "Come play!"

"Mama's tired," Anne told him.

But Walter wanted Anne whether she played with him or not, so he climbed up onto the bed and threw himself at her.

Anne ran her fingers through the hair she hated as she said, "If I was _already_ married to someone, she couldn't even _have _had such a gruesome idea as me ending up with- with _Billy!_ ...Or, if I moved away, she wouldn't know _where _I was, so she couldn't interfere _at all! _Oh, I just need to move _away_, married or _not-_"

Marilla was firm: "Well, you're _not _moving away _unmarried! _My goodness, if you think you have troubles right _now, _you just wait until people see you living with a man _unmarried-_"

"_Fine_, then! I don't _need _to move away. I can be married _right here in Avonlea_," Anne begged.

"Anne," Marilla said, done with it. "I'm sure you have strong feelings about what happened today, but marriage isn't going to remedy that."

Anne sighed. She had a lot to say to Marilla, but for once she didn't _want _to talk- she just made Marilla be her pillow instead. Marilla sat with her and stroked her hair.

* * *

When Friday came, Anne said, "Walter, _guess who's coming today?"_

"Aunt Jane's mama," he said happily.

"_No_," Anne said, trying to keep the hard edge out of her voice.

Walter had asked for Mrs. Andrews several times this week, annoying Anne. She berated herself for allowing him that relationship at all, because now it was just one more person who'd been taken away from him.

But she could move past this easily today since she had better news to share: "No, _Gilbert_."

Walter forgot Mrs. Andrews instantly and he lit up. "_Gil-berrr!_" he said.

Anne looked at him in surprise.

* * *

Matthew took Anne to meet Gilbert at the station.

If anyone had been looking, they'd have seen Matthew's uncomfortable face, eyes darting around, as Gilbert and Anne kissed deeply: Time had stopped for them, and as other passengers milled around going on their way, Anne and Gilbert stayed locked in an embrace.

Finally Matthew cleared his throat loudly, and the two broke apart- laughing, because they'd both forgotten anyone else was there.

"Well- come on, then- come get into the buggy and let's go," he said roughly.

* * *

The drive home was filled with boring talk as Mattthew let Gilbert know how his workers were getting along- Gilbert had to hire two farmhands because he'd be gone and had decided not to sell his land after all.

Anne assumed Gilbert simply didn't want to lose his childhood home, but in Gilbert's mind, he had land and a house, and he needed both of those things to have a wife and a child. Until he was sure of a new place to live, he'd keep the old one.

Matthew got the buggy and horses settled and this gave Anne and Gilbert another opportunity to share a long kiss before going into the house.

Every time they'd kissed, they'd had their arms wrapped around each other, and _that_ was fine, but today, Anne- without thinking- without _realizing- _slowly ran her fingers down Gilbert's chest as she kissed him. Gilbert certainly noticed, and before he would give himself opportunity to touch her in a similar manner, he quickly separated from her.

"What is it?" Anne asked breathlessly as he pulled away.

"N-nothing- I just…"

Anne looked at him questioningly.

Gilbert laughed, just as breathless, and feeling awkward as he ran his hand through his hair. "Uh- I just thought we better stop. I...don't want to make things more difficult."

"More difficult?" Anne frowned.

Gilbert stared at her. Did she truly have no idea how _strong _his feelings were? If he hadn't been a better man…

"It's hard not to...to move ahead with things," he admitted quietly. "And...we _can't_, so…"

"I know, but we're _only _kissing," Anne whispered, not understanding.

Gilbert took her hands in his own. "Maybe you have more self-control than I have." To stave off any further questions, he changed the subject, saying brightly, "Where's my best friend?"

Anne smiled and, still holding hands, led him across the grass.

"Gil-berrr," Walter said to Marilla, beginning to jump up and down.

He had been standing at the front door waiting impatiently ever since Anne and Matthew had left for the train station.

When the buggy finally came into view, he had begun jumping up and down, and hadn't stopped.

He threw himself at Gilbert the moment he was through the door.

Gilbert scooped Walter up, making him laugh.

When the moment passed, Gilbert looked at Walter quietly, with love. He had missed him so.

"_Gil-ber,"_ Walter announced, grabbing his face.

"Gil-ber?" Gilbert echoed, looking at Anne, Marilla, and Matthew in surprise.

He set Walter down. Walter clung to his legs.

"I'm glad he's growing up, but...I'm going to miss _Guh-buh_," Gilbert admitted.

They all laughed.


	155. Frustration

Anne brought up marriage again, and Marilla interrupted, "How's Gilbert's schoolwork coming along?"

The question startled Anne. "Good, I think. He's a good student."

"Yes, but specifically," Marilla pressed. "What tests has he had lately? How many hours of homework does he get per night? Does he have any big projects going on right now?"

Anne was thrown off. "I don't know," she began slowly. "He tells me what they're _learning _in class, so I can know the information too...but he doesn't tell me about each individual assignment he does. Why?"

"I just hope," Marilla said, "That your eagerness to marry isn't making him feel more stress over his schoolwork."

"What do you mean?" Anne asked.

Marilla explained, "Gilbert committed to doing a two-year program condensed into one year. He's doing twice as much work as the others. Of course, he's motivated to move ahead with school so you can marry sooner. But if this program becomes too stressful, it would be better for him to switch back to the two-year schedule, wouldn't it?"

Anne nodded slowly. "You think he should switch?"

"No," Marilla said. "But if the strain becomes too much, he should feel that he _can_ switch- _without_ guilt over delaying things."

Anne stared at her. She had felt so impatient waiting to start the next part of her life.

But now she realized that Gilbert wasn't _waiting _for marriage- he was _working for marriage. _

All _she _had to do was wait; it was Gilbert who had to make sure everything was ready for her.

She decided then that she could be more patient.

* * *

"Hey, Blythe- a bunch of us are going downtown tonight," Robert called out, into Gilbert's room. "Wanna come?"

Gilbert pulled his eyes from his textbook. "No, thanks," he said.

Robert came striding into the room. "Blythe, you gotta put the books down once in a while and have some fun."

Gilbert smiled. "It's good. I'm all right. You have a nice time."

Robert dropped onto Gilbert's bed, "There's some pretty fine gals here," he said, trying to tempt him. "You're gonna miss a good time."

Gilbert shook his head. "I need to get work done."

"So do it on the weekend! It's not due til Monday."

"I don't like to take work home on weekends," Gilbert began.

"Overachiever," Robert teased. "Ma and Pop gonna lay into you if you don't come home with all your work done?"

"My parents are dead," Gilbert finally said flatly. He was ready for Robert to get out of his room.

Robert's face paled. "Oh- oh, God- sorry, Blythe. I didn't know."

Gilbert nodded and turned back to his book.

"Who...who do you live with?" Robert asked curiously. "You go home every weekend."

"I live alone. My dad died a couple years ago."

"You never moved in with anyone?" Robert asked, a bit stunned at the blow Gilbert had delivered.

Gilbert shrugged. "I figured I was old enough to start out on my own. Not really any family nearby to move in with, anyway."

Robert blew out his breath. "Then why go home all the time? Why not stay here? Those girls are gonna meet us down at the-"

"Look," Gilbert interrupted. "I have someone back home. That's why I go every weekend, and that's why I don't want to take work home with me. I just...want to be with her as long as I'm there."

Robert wanted to make fun of the dreamy look in Gilbert's eyes, but he was too interested. "You got a picture of her?" he asked.

Gilbert wanted a photo of Anne, but he decided it was not a good time to suggest it...Anne was a little sour on the whole idea of photographs at the moment.

"No, but I _do _have one of-" Gilbert had started to take Walter's photo out of his desk drawer, but he stopped and cut himself off before he could mention Anne's baby. Instead he just shook his head.

"You have one of _what?"_ Robert pushed.

"Uh…"

Robert, being the jerk that he was, reached around Gilbert and snatched the photograph. "What're you hiding, Blythe? Is she too ugly for- hey, this is just a baby!"

Gilbert nodded, He put his hand out, eyebrows up, expecting the photo back.

Robert gave it back.

Gilbert put it in his drawer and shut it firmly.

"Why do you keep it in there?"

"Because it's no one else's business," Gilbert said, knowing that Anne would not be regarded highly if anyone knew she had a baby, and then under his breath- "And because I'm living with a bunch of pigs."

Robert said, "I don't get it. Why do you have a picture of a _baby?"_

Gilbert didn't answer.

But a sly grin came to Robert's face."_Ohhh_...so, she puts out? No wonder you like going home every weekend."

Gilbert's voice became unfriendly: "The guys are waiting for you. Go on now, I have work to do."

Robert left, but he was staring at Gilbert.

* * *

After the guys had left, Gilbert pushed his books away and flopped down on his bed. He needed to finish his homework now so he wouldn't have to take it home and waste precious time with Anne, but…

_Sigh._

Would everything be difficult _forever?_ All he _wanted _was to be with Anne. Why were their lives so complicated?

Well, he _knew _why.

But he kept up hope that things would get easier.

He couldn't wait to go to her- to see her, to talk to her, to kiss her…

...But he wanted to be with her _more _than that. And he couldn't. He pulled his pillow over his head suddenly, a noise made in frustration escaping him.

He sat up. Pushing his books aside, he decided it would benefit him to go for a run.


	156. On the Brink

Gilbert's run did not help him. When he came back, he was glad to see that the other boys were still gone.

* * *

The next morning, after his first two classes, he had a short break, and decided to sharpen his pencils. He went up to his room to retrieve his pocketknife from his drawer, and when he did, he saw that Walter's picture was not in his drawer.

"Where's my picture?" he asked Robert as soon as he saw him.

"What picture?" Robert asked with a smile.

"You _know_ what picture. Where is it?" Gilbert was in no mood to be trifled with.

"Oh, I don't know. Are you sure it didn't just fall out of the drawer? Maybe it fell behind your desk or something." Robert was still smiling.

"No, it didn't," Gilbert said through clenched teeth. "You took it, and I want to know where you put it."

"Hey, hey," Robert said, his hands up. "How do you know I took it? Maybe it was someone else who took it."

"No one else knows about it but _you_," Gilbert said lowly.

"You _sure_ about that, Blythe?" Robert asked, feigning confusion. "'Cause it seems to me a _lot_ of people know about it."

Gilbert looked around.

Every face was staring at him.

"Relax, Blythe," Robert said, putting an arm around him. "You're a celebrity."

"I'm a celebrity?" Gilbert asked, not liking where this was going.

"Sure," Robert said with his same stupid grin. "Now that we all know what you're doing on the weekends, buddy; why don't you give us all the details?"

He let out a big laugh and the others joined in.

Gilbert finally saw Walter's photograph. It was on the floor, between a couple guys.

It had been passed around.

Gilbert went up to it, leaned down to snatch it, and left without saying anything.

* * *

He was glad to leave for home.

When he arrived, Walter, as usual, threw himself against his legs, demanding, "Up! Up!"

Gilbert grabbed him up and squeezed him.

He leaned in to kiss Anne.

"Where are Marilla and Matthew?" Gilbert asked.

"Matthew's outside and Marilla's been at Rachels' most of the morning," Anne said with a smile.

"So...just _us_, huh," Gilbert said hesitantly.

"_Just_ us," Anne repeated, kissing him again.

Gilbert simultaneously wished Walter was _not_ there, _and_ was glad Walter _was_ there.

"How was school this week?" Anne asked him, pulling him by the hand further into the house.

"It was...good," Gilbert said, nodding. "How's everything here?"

"Gil-ber stay here," Walter announced, demanding his attention.

Gilbert picked him up. "I can stay today and tomorrow, but then I have to go back to school."

"No schoo, just stay."

Gilbert tousled Walter's hair. "I wish," he said. He and Anne sat down on the sofa. Anne leaned in to kiss him again. Gilbert kissed back and for a brief moment he forgot Walter was with them.

He pulled away and took Anne's hand instead, but even that felt like fire. He was glad that Marilla came in then.

Gilbert went to his own house that night. He'd only stayed at Green Gables once because Anne had been sick and Walter had been throwing tantrums and it was just easier not to leave them. But today he went home.


	157. Everything's Going to Be All Right

Anne was bothered by how much Gilbert began to pull away from her.

She hadn't noticed it at first, because Walter was nearly always there and she assumed that Gilbert did not want the little boy seeing them being too physical with each other.

But when Marilla took Walter into town with her because he fancied a buggy ride, Anne and Gilbert were alone, and Gilbert kept finding little ways to move away from her. He wouldn't even sit on the sofa with her; he moved to a chair when she sat close by his side.

Finally she said, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Gilbert said quickly. "Why?"

Anne felt hurt. "I thought you would be glad we could be together but I feel like you keep shutting me out…"

Gilbert sighed. He didn't know what to do.

_Maybe if I just try to ignore the feeling..._

He pulled her close against him and kissed her deeply.

._..No, ignoring doesn't work._ He pulled away from her again.

Finally he sat down on the sofa, taking her hand so she'd sit with him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to push you away. I just…"

Anne waited for him to go on.

"Sometimes...no, _all_ the time, I'll be honest. Being so close just makes it...it makes it worse. We can't...be together. Not in the way…"

Gilbert felt woefully unprepared to explain any of this, and wished he hadn't begun.

"But kissing is nice," Anne said, not seeing the problem.

She was happy with kissing. She didn't understand why he wasn't.

"It _is_ nice," he agreed. "It's just...sometimes it doesn't feel like _enough_. And...well, we aren't _married_...and even- in the future- when we _are_ married, I don't think...I don't think we'll do very well with the whole...being together...thing, and…"

He trailed off, feeling awkward and miserable.

Anne sat back. She let go of his hand.

Finally she said, "I didn't know I was making it worse," she said slowly. "I thought that...that kissing was something we _could_ do."

"Well, it _is_," Gilbert said slowly. "And I'm happy with that. I...I _should_ be happy with that. I don't mean to sound like I'm _not_. It's just...it's like the _closer_ we get, the more difficult it is to not get to do...other things."

Anne was biting her lip. Even though he knew it just meant she was thinking, it still made Gilbert _crazy_ when she did that.

Finally she sighed, looking lost. She folded her arms on her lap. "I don't know what to do."

Gilbert reached for her hand again and she pulled away.

"Anne…"

But her eyes had filled with tears.

"Anne, darling, don't cry," Gilbert said, starting to move closer and then stopping because she had been the one to pull away from him. "I'm sorry-"

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Anne said, upset, her tone coming out harsh. "I…"

And then she got up and ran to her room, shutting the door behind her.

Gilbert sat on the sofa for a moment, helpless. He got up and followed her.

"Anne?" he said, knocking softly on her door.

"Anne," he said as he opened the door just a bit and looked inside.

He came in and went to her side. But she turned to face the other way. "Anne?" he asked, his voice soft. "Look at me, love."

She wouldn't. So he sat down, her back to him, and tried to figure out what to say.

"I don't want you to think I'm angling for more. I _am_ happy we can kiss!"

She didn't respond.

He said, "I'd never just do whatever I _felt_ like, Anne- I hope you know that. I don't want to scare you and I don't want you to feel like you're not safe with me. ….The whole reason I move _away_ from you is because I _don't_ want you to feel like I'm trying to make things progress more than you want them to."

Anne finally turned to him, her face hot. "But you _do_ want to do more than _I_ want to," she started. "And that's how it's always going to be for us!" She sat up, wiping her eyes. "Don't you see? It's _always_ going to be you wanting _more_ and me feeling _awful_ for _denying_ you."

Gilbert touched her hair. "No, it won't be. I'll manage."

Anne turned her head away from him.

Gilbert tried again. "Just because it's difficult right now doesn't mean it _always_ will be. Eventually I'll get used to things how they are, and then I'll be all right." He took a deep breath. "It's going to take time for me, and I'm just...I'm just not there yet, darling."

Anne wanted to curl up against him and find comfort in his arms but _now_ she couldn't even do _that_\- not when she knew that her every touch was agonizing to him.

They sat there, there being nothing they could do, and no way to fix the situation.

"Why don't I go make us some tea?" Gilbert asked gently. "Marilla will be back soon, with Walter. We'll have a nice tea. I brought back some chocolate wafers I saw in a shop. I thought you'd like them. They're…"

But Anne was crying again.

"Do you want me to stay, Anne? Instead of going home, I could…"

Anne shook her head. "Stay and do what?" she asked, upset. "Stay in the spare room and feel miserable because I'm sleeping too close by?"

"I won't think about you."

That made Anne laugh. "I never thought I'd be glad to hear you say you won't think about me."

Gilbert smiled, relieved he'd gotten her to laugh. "Well," he said, "The spare room is a lot warmer than my house, really, and the days are starting to feel more like fall."

Anne got up. "If you really want to stay, I should put another blanket in there. Last time you stayed it was warmer."

Gilbert followed her.

He noticed Walter's baby bed in the spare room. "Oh. You haven't found a place to take it yet? The church might know of-"

"Of some couple who needs a baby bed," Anne finished for him. "That's what Marilla said, too. But I'm going to keep it. Then I don't have to buy another one."

She had said what she felt, but she hadn't really thought about what she was saying.

Gilbert was surprised- but felt that he couldn't really react to what she was saying, or he'd upset her. "Yeah," he said. "If you and I ever adopt a baby, Walter would get to have a little brother or sister, and that would be nice for him. ...It would be helpful, too, now that we know what it's like for girls who need to find a different home for their baby."

Anne nodded, looking down, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yes, or...if we ever got to have a baby of our own, maybe."

Gilbert nodded slowly. "You think that...might be a possibility?"

"I don't _know_," Anne said, not looking at him. "I wasn't going to say anything before, because probably we won't have any, but it was just a thought."

Gilbert didn't know what to say. Finally: "If we do, that's all right, and if we don't, that's all right, too."

Anne poked at the baby bed so it would rock. She missed the sound of it rocking, now that Walter was too big for it.

The sound of the cradle rocking was all that could be heard for a moment in the empty, quiet house.

"I'd like to have one of our own," Anne said, still not looking at him.

"I would, too," Gilbert agreed. "But it's not the most important thing."

Anne knew that Gilbert was just the sort of man who would be wonderful with a house full of children to love. ...And she really, really wanted to be able to look down and see a little one that was a mixture of herself and the man she loved.

"You know," Gilbert said hesitantly. "If we ever _did_ do anything, we'd have to take things slow. I mean really slow. We wouldn't want to rush into anything."

Anne nodded.

Gilbert went on, slowly. "And even if we _started_ to, it doesn't mean we have to _keep_ doing it. Maybe...maybe you change your mind, and you decide you don't want to after all, well, then we would just stop. And that would be all right."

Anne was blushing, but Gilbert went on anyway: "It shouldn't be something that's scary or hurts. If it _is_, then we must have been doing it wrong."

This last bit sounded funny to Anne and she couldn't help cracking a smile.

"Come on, let's go have that tea," Gilbert said, putting his hand out to her.

Anne finally took it, and followed him downstairs.

Nothing had actually been _fixed_, but maybe someday it _would_ be.

For now, they were just going to have to stumble through the bad times together. But they _both_ knew they'd rather be in the bad times together than in good times apart.


	158. Rachel Being Rachel

Short chapter, all I had time for tonight. But next time I'm writing about Anne hanging out with other moms, and then Gilbert encourages Anne to become an author : )

* * *

If you are wondering why Gilbert is at the "wrong" school, when I started this story season 3 hadn't aired yet. ...In the books, Gilbert goes first to Queens and then to Redmond, so that is what I went by.

* * *

"I don't want to mention this to Anne this without knowing how she feels about it...but _Jane's _been asking me about Anne a _lot_. Is Anne anywhere _close _to forgiveness, do you think?" Gilbert asked Marilla before he left to start a new school week.

Marilla shook her head. "She's avoiding Jane because she doesn't want to have to deal with _any _of what happened regarding that photograph. She's trying not to think about it at all."

Gilbert nodded.

"Please don't let Jane feel Anne is angry with her. She isn't. It's just...hard for her." Then Marilla thought: _Just like everything else is._

* * *

Even though Anne wasn't speaking to Jane, she was still getting news from all of the other girls.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to leave home and branch out on your own," Marilla told her regretfully when Anne mentioned newsy bits from the girls' letters.

Anne looked up in surprise. "Staying here with you is the only _good _part about not getting to go to Queens! I _know _I would have _loved _it, but...oh, Marilla, sometimes I'm glad nothing has to _change!" _Anne finished passionately. "Sometimes _all _I want is for nothing to change. That I can be with you and Matthew _all the time. _I can help you in the house and I can feed the chickens and in the evening we could sit around the fireplace and talk and talk and talk…"

Marilla ducked her head, hiding the pleased flush that filled her face. When she straightened up, all she said was, "Really? I'm surprised to hear that, with all your impatience over marrying and moving far away from us."

"I can wait," Anne said, content "I like being here with you."

* * *

A letter from Josie Pye was delivered while Anne was out.

Marilla expressed her worry over what the letter might contain, and how perhaps Anne would not do well with further conflict from anyone at the present moment.

Rachel flattened dough with her rolling pin as she said, "Then don't let her read it-"

"Oh, really, now, Rachel," Marilla interrupted, exasperated. "I'm not going to withhold her mail from her!"

"You didn't let me _finish_," Rachel said, her voice lowered. "I was _going _to say, 'Then don't let her read it _until after you do'._"

Marilla shook her head. "When I found out," she said, "That _Eliza Barry _opens her daughter's mail, I said I would do no such thing. It's foolish- ridiculous, even- and there's no calling for it."

"But she doesn't need to _know _you read it," Rachel explained.

"And just how-"

"_Steam."_

* * *

Rachel had the pot of water boiling on the stove before Marilla could even form a reaction.

"Now this is how you do it," Rachel said with the wisdom of one who has done something many, many times. "You let the steam rise up and warm the adhesive, and you watch for it to appear just the _slightest _bit sticky. You'll be able to gently separate the envelope- I think using a _toothpick _is _ideal_, a fork is too big and can damage the flap- and then you'll be able to slide the letter out."

Marilla just watched her. "Rachel, what on earth! Why in the world do you know how to do such a thing?"

Rachel moved the envelope up and down, letting it wave gently through the steam. "You would be amazed," she explained, "How you can have so many children yet not know what's going on in any of their lives. The things young people don't tell their mothers! But when they write letters to their _friends _and get letters back, _you learn a great deal._"

Marilla very nearly rolled her eyes.

Rachel continued- with satisfaction- "I have been the first person to know about six different engagements, I'll have you know."

"Why does that not surprise me," Marilla said dryly.

Rachel waited until at last she felt the envelope was sufficiently sticky and then applied the toothpick. In a moment she had the letter free.

"_Really_, now," Marilla said. "I've let this go far enough. Put it back."

Rachel began reading. "Oh," she commented.

"What?" Marilla asked, worried.

"Oh," Rachel said again.

"Rachel, what is it?" Marilla demanded.

"Why, Marilla, I thought you didn't believe in reading your daughter's mail!" Rachel couldn't help teasing.

"_I'm_ not reading it," Marilla defended. "_You_ are. So go ahead and tell me what it says, for goodness sakes."

"She says that she's very sorry for how she treated Anne," Rachel read. "She said that she wishes she'd never defended Billy. She can see now how wrong he was. Now that she's been away at Queens, she's developed more maturity and regrets her actions."

Marilla let a breath out. "...I suppose I am relieved to know."

Rachel smiled, "Aren't you glad you have a friend like me?"

Marilla had to laugh. "I am. You know too many tricks to be on your bad side!"


	159. A World to Come Into

Gilbert was not enjoying Queens as much as he thought he would. Anne would have given him not only companionship but also someone to compete with, to make things interesting, to push him more.

But Anne was not there.

Gilbert was doing all right with the homework, though it did tend to pile up- it was quite a bit more work than even Miss Stacy had given them, and he was up late many nights working.

Besides that, he had Jane to deal with, and Jane was rivaling her mother in asking questions about Anne and the baby. All he could do was assure Jane that Anne would make contact sometime soon. He hoped.

Then there were the boys. Gilbert was kidded mercilessly by the other boys for "doing the deed" on his weekends home. They pestered him for details, which he didn't have, and would not give if he did have. They came to him for advice on how to "get" the girls they met in town, and made Gilbert angry with the way they considered them something to be used. He was thoroughly sick of the boys all around him.

Anne wasn't too happy herself at the moment, because she missed the other girls, who were all away at Queens, and while she was happy to get their letters, their letters were always full of things she could not do.

One day when she mentioned this to Emily, Emily had an idea.

She asked Marilla first, before she asked Anne. "What would you think of Anne joining my friends and I?"

"Like that day you took her to a little party someone was having?" Marilla vaguely recalled this, a time before Anne was visibly expecting.

"Yes...but back then we treated her as a little girl tagging along with the ladies. I'm talking now about her being part of my circle of friends, the same as any of us."

Marilla hesitated. "Your friends are all much older than Anne."

Emily nodded. "Some are around my age- twenty-two- and some are in their mid- and late-twenties. What brought us all together is that we all have young children. And so does Anne."

"I don't know," Marilla began. "I'm pleased you're her friend, Emily, but...I don't want her to stick out like a sore thumb. I worry she'll feel so different from you all, being young and unmarried…"

Emily nodded. "I worried about that, too. That's why I wanted to ask you what you thought about it, before I asked her."

"Let me think about it," Marilla said. "I think it's a lovely idea. I just...I just want to be _sure_. I must be so careful with her, now."

Emily understood.

* * *

Marilla brought it up with Matthew while Anne was busy giving Walter a bath.

"It isn't that it's a bad idea," she explained. "I _want_ her to have a circle of friends here in town. It's just that she has...differences...from the other mothers. I don't want her to feel she's on the outside of things!"

Matthew nodded.

"She's been on the outside of things so much already!" Marilla went on. "And with Emily's friends, she won't really fit _in_, Matthew, she _won't- _some of those women are a good ten years older than her, and married."

Matthew just nodded again.

Marilla was still thinking: "She's going to be stuck between two worlds- a world of young girls who go off to Queens, and a world of married women with families. And she can't truly fit in with _either_."

Matthew finally spoke up, giving his input: "You're right she don't fit in with the women folk, not yet. But at least it's a world she's moving _into_, instead of a world she's leaving behind."

_Sometimes_, Marilla thought, _Matthew has a way of saying one small thing that makes a muddled situation clear a day._

* * *

Anne was invited to come to Emily's.

Marilla was surprised that Anne was not immediately excited to go.

"It's embarrassing," Anne said.

"Why should it be embarrassing?" Marilla asked, surprised.

"Because I won't _fit in,_ Marilla! I won't fit in at all and I'll stick out...like a _sore thumb."_

"Oh, Anne," Marilla said briskly. "What a ridiculous thing to say!"

"Don't _you _think I will?" Anne asked miserably.

"No, I certainly _don't_. It's a silly thing to think. Why that came into your mind I don't know. Now- you're going to go and make new friends and you're going to enjoy it."

Anne just stared at her.

Marilla was firm. "_Go_."

* * *

Before Anne arrived, Emily felt she must prepare her friends for the visit.

"No matter what the situation, she needs our support and encouragement now that she's got a child to raise." she said firmly. She looked around at her friends. "If you've heard any rumors and want to know if they're true, ask me now, so that I may clear things up and it won't be hanging over our heads when Anne comes."

Her friends looked at each other. One looked embarrassed while she broached, "I'd always been told that a man only does such a thing if a woman's put herself out as a temptation to him…"

That statement alone ignited the conversation and took them to almost the time that Anne was to arrive.

Emily looked at the clock, aware that it was getting close to when she'd invited Anne over. She looked around at her friends. "You know, I don't mean to make you all watch your speech so carefully, but I think that- at least _just _during this _first _visit- we ought to try not to mention our _husbands_ so much, for fear she'll be left out, not having one. ...I know her family helps her...I just can't help but think how alone _I'd _feel if I had Clara with no Arnold and all the women around me were going on about their husbands."

One lady spoke up. "My boy said _Dada _yesterday. I'll tell you that now, so I won't have to mention it while Anne's here."

"I do feel sorry for her little boy, not having a father," another lady mentioned.

"He _does _have a father, though- does the Andrews boy have any involvement with her?"

"Not since the conception," was Emily's bitter response.

"I've heard that the Cuthberts _sued _the boy's family and came into a lot of money," another lady said hesitantly.

"The Andrews opened up a bank account in Anne's name to help with expenses, but they didn't do so because of a lawsuit. ...Giving Anne a bank account was perhaps the only decent thing they did in the matter."

"It doesn't seem right that he isn't involved," another friend said. "A boy ought not be allowed to leave a girl unmarried if he's made her have a baby…"

Emily was surprised. "I can't imagine she'd _want _him to be involved. If _you'd _been attacked in such a way, would you _want _the man to stay in contact with you?"

Once putting it to them that way- having to picture themselves in Anne's shoes- they understood.

A timid knock on the door broke their conversation and Emily went to answer it.

She returned to the parlor with Anne, who was reluctant due to embarrassment. But Emily had a kind and comforting arm around her.

Emily held Anne close to her side as she said, "Everyone, this is my dear friend and near-sister Anne. And her little boy Walter. Isn't he darling? Come around, Anne, and I'll introduce you to everyone."

Anne set Walter down on the floor and held his hand as she went to meet the ladies.

"Now, we all have a little one here, so Walter will be among friends too! Anne, this is Beatrice Archer, and her son John- he's our youngest."

Anne looked at the tiny baby, remembering when Walter was that small. "Walter's middle name is John, too," she said shyly to Beatrice.

When she was introduced to a woman who had twins, her eyes went big and she said, "Oh, I _am _sorry!"

They all laughed.

It was a pleasant afternoon, with Anne growing less uncomfortable every minute, and when she went home, she felt that her world had grown a little bit larger.

* * *

I have a few more chapters almost ready that I can post later tonight and tomorrow


	160. Anne Teaches Sunday School

Rachel came by with news that the reverend would be retiring and planned to have his last Sunday morning service in just a few weeks.

"I'm glad," Marilla commented. "He's never been my favorite person. ...Though I hope it didn't show outside the family."

"Why do you want to go to church, then," Anne asked, "If you don't like him?"

"We don't go to church for the reverend," Marilla explained. "We go to church for God."

"Well, I'm glad he's leaving," Anne said.

Matthew, though he didn't say it, agreed with Anne.

"Since we won't have a reverend anymore does this mean we don't have to go to church?" Anne asked.

Marilla gave her a Look. "No," she said firmly. "Another will be found."

Anne hoped that whoever it was would be a little nicer.

The congregation had a retirement party for the reverend one week, and though many cried at his departure, Anne did not.

She did worry, though, about what the next one would be like.

Anne did not worry for long. Reverend Seth Powell was sent to Avonlea fresh out of seminary school and full of enthusiasm that made Anne feel some revived interest in being an active part of the congregation.

Reverend Powell's first action in his new community was to go visit every person in town to get to know them.

At Green Gables, Marilla welcomed him in with a pie, introducing him to Matthew and then inviting him to come into the parlor and sit down.

Matthew said hello gruffly, and- though obligated by good manners to speak from time to time- he was quiet for the majority of the visit.

Marilla called Anne to come down and meet the new reverend.

"This is my daughter, Anne," she said with a hint of pride in her voice. "Well, she's Matthew's daughter, too- we share her, sort of." Knowing that sounded odd, she explained: "We took Anne in from an orphan asylum in Nova Scotia three years ago. She's been a blessing to us ever since."

Anne couldn't help smiling, color coming into her cheeks.

"I can imagine," Reverend Powell said, smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Anne."

"And this is Anne's little boy, Walter," Marilla continued.

Anne _was _going to shake hands, but a look of panic came to her face and instead she hid her hands behind her back.

Reverend Powell did not know what the problem was.

But Walter, suddenly shy, had hidden behind Anne, and his chubby hands pulling on her skirt reminded her that she did not want anyone to know she wasn't married- she wished she could keep her hands hidden behind her back forever so that no one would see that she was not wearing a wedding ring.

Anne wished the reverend hadn't come, because she was always rather nervous of meeting new people, since she never knew how she would be regarded by them. Also, it meant potentially having to re-tell her story.

But Reverend Powell didn't seem to think she needed to bother with any explanations.

"Hello, Walter," he said with a smile, bending down to be at eye level with the little boy. "How old are you?"

Walter shyly held out two fingers.

"Is he in the nursery?" Reverend Powell asked the family.

"He just started," Anne said. "He likes it. He's made friends that way."

"Clara my fwend," Walter said loudly.

Anne smiled. "Clara Perkins is his best friend," she told the reverend. "They've been friends since he was born, practically."

"I visited with the Perkins' just yesterday," Reverend Powell said, smiling. "They seem like a lovely family."

"They are," Marilla put in. "Anne used to babysit for their daughter. We're very fond of them."

They talked a while longer, though Walter could not sit still for long and went off to find his toys.

Anne followed him and brought his rocking horse into the parlor so that she could oversee him as he used it. Marilla was surprised to see the horse brought out, because Anne hated it so and did not want the reminder of the Andrews, but she realized that if Anne was to be included in the conversation, she would have to occupy Walter while they talked.

Reverend Powell had assumed that Anne had been cast off to an orphan asylum because she'd found herself pregnant and was disowned by her parents over it. He had heard of that happening before, and assumed it had happened again here.

But Miss Cuthbert had said they'd taken in Anne three years ago, and Anne's baby was two. That meant she'd had the baby _after _coming to live with the Cuthberts, not before.

He wondered about the situation. He was relieved that Anne's apparent indiscretion had not caused the Cuthbert's to send her straight back to the orphan's home they'd gotten her from.

Knowing Miss and Mr. Cuthbert had _kept _this young girl despite her predicament made him like these people all the more. He left their home feeling like he had made friends here.

Anne spent the next several weeks in a happier state. She went to lunch several times with Emily's friends, who were slowly and surely becoming _her _friends. She even liked going to church, because Reverend Powell was a revolutionary in her eyes.

The previous reverend's sermons were full of doom and gloom, fire and brimstone. And while Anne in her younger self enjoyed the dramatic effect, she found religion dreary as a result.

But this reverend was different. He seemed to be overflowing with a deep seated joy, and Anne found it contagious.

He said that people ought to turn to God because God loved them. This was very different from what Anne had learned from the _previous _reverend, which was that God was an angry God who would cast them into a fiery pit for every wrongdoing.

He also believed that God had made the world beautiful and it was to be enjoyed. The previous reverend saw danger at every turn, cautioning people from enjoying things because it would surely lead them to ruin; the devil was everywhere, waiting to tempt them.

But the most important thing to Anne was that this reverend talked a lot about how people ought to treat each other with love and compassion- a far cry from the previous reverend's harsh judgement.

Anne's letters to Gilbert were filled with church news and news of her outings with friends, and Gilbert was glad that Anne was beginning to have a fuller life.

Mrs. Andrews, after all these weeks still upset over her sudden expulsion from Walter's life, finally went to the new reverend, hoping she could get him to intervene on her behalf.

It was through this meeting that Reverend Powell learned Anne's story.

He did _not _agree to coerce the Cuthberts into allowing Mrs. Andrews back into the baby's life. Instead, the reverend told her that she would have to respect Anne's decision, difficult as it was. The fact was, Anne had trusted Mrs. Andrews by allowing her into the baby's life, and Mrs. Andrews sending a photo of the baby to her son had been a betrayal of that trust. He would pray for peace and forgiveness, but he would not try to force Anne into a situation of feeling violated once again.

Reverend Powell's Sunday School attendance had grown so much that he decided to split the children's class into groups because there were too many of them. When he needed a teacher for the youngest children, he thought of Anne.

"Me?" Anne asked. "Why me?"

"Why _not _you?" he asked her. "You seem to me like you were _meant _to be a teacher. You're good with children, and I think you'd be perfect to teach the little ones."

Anne looked at Marilla and Matthew.

"It's _nice_," Marilla said slowly, "But I'm not sure people in town would _accept..._" she trailed off, not wanting to make things worse.

But Anne finished for her: "An unwed mother," she stated flatly. "An unwed mother teaching their children."

"On the contrary, I think it is your life experiences that have made you a good messenger for the faith. You have been tested by hardship, yet here you are, steadfast and optimistic."

Anne finally, reluctantly, agreed to be the teacher. Marilla worried about how people would react to this.

There were parents who objected to Anne taking on the role, but the reverend only offered to let their children move to the other teacher's class; he would not rescind his invitation for Anne to teach hers.

And so Anne began her little Sunday School class at the beginning of the Winter term, with only four children.

She was told that she should spend the first seven weeks on the Creation of the world. The other teachers read from the Bible and made the children memorize long passages of scripture and then quizzed them on what they had memorized.

Anne did not.

For the first Sunday, she brought in a black wool blanket to cover up the window and a box of candles to show light and shadow. For the second Sunday, she showed them how water evaporates and how clouds form. For the third Sunday, she taught them about plants making oxygen and that you can tell a tree's age by its rings. For the fourth Sunday, she led the children in creating a model of the solar system using wax and wire. For the fifth Sunday, she talked about the mechanics of wings so they'd understand how birds fly. For the sixth Sunday, she took them on a walk in the woods to point out the ways that animals had been made with certain features to help them to survive winters.

On the seventh Sunday, she was sick, and so she rested.

Other parents began to ask if their children could move into Anne's class.


	161. How We've Missed You

"Fall didn't bother me so much this year," Anne said happily, hoisting Walter up on her hip so he could see the very first snowflakes of winter outside.

Marilla smiled. "I'm relieved to hear it."

"Snow!" Walter said, banging on the glass.

Anne pushed his hands away from the window. "Don't do that, you'll _break _it," she told him. She set him down on the floor. "Two years and four months old," she said, looking down at him. "I can't believe it. You ought to still be a baby. ...Well, you _are _still a baby."

"I no baby," Walter demanded. "I a big boy."

"All right, all right, big boy. Go give grandma a hug and then off to bed."

"_No_ bed," Walter argued.

"_Yes_, bed! It's nighttime now. See how dark it is? I let you stay up because it looked like snow, but now you've seen the snow, so it's off to bed with you."

"_No bed!_"

"Walter, Gilbert is coming _tomorrow_. If you won't go to bed tonight, then tomorrow can't come, and Gilbert will never get here," Anne threatened. It did not make sense, but it made sense to a two year old and he conceded.

* * *

"Gil-ber," Walter said as Anne put him in his bed.

"Yes, Gil-ber," Anne repeated. "He'll come tomorrow. Go to sleep now."

"Story," Walter demanded. "Mama tell a story."

"What story?" Anne asked, already tired and wanting him to go to sleep so that she could, too.

"A Gil-ber story," Walter reminded, because _every _night had to be a 'gil-ber' story.

"Yes, I know Gilbert _has _to be _in_ the story," Anne agreed, "But what else should it be about?"

"'Bout chickens," he said happily.

"A story about chickens?" Anne thought. "Hmm…"

"No, 'bout bears," Walter changed his mind.

"Bears-"

"Ducks," he said.

"Walter, stop changing your mind! All right. Once upon a time there were five little yellow baby ducklings. They lived at the pond near Gilbert's house. One day Gilbert went out to the pond and he brought bread with him. He threw the bread to the ducks and they ate it. They liked the bread and wondered what else there was to eat in Gilbert's house. They decided they wanted to come visit, so they followed Gilbert home. He invited them to tea and they all sat around his parlor, their wings daintily holding teacups and saucers. They all remembered their manners and were perfect guests. After they finished their tea, they played croquet on the lawn…"

Walter was soon asleep and Anne could go to bed, too.

* * *

Gilbert couldn't believe his year at Queens was half over. He'd worked hard, and hoped that when the semester exam results came back he would be rewarded for all those hours of study. He did not need to worry- he came out first in every subject.

It was time for the Christmas holiday, and he was not the least bit mopey about leaving his roommates behind for a while. Their immaturity was infuriating, and even as he left they were kidding him about "what he'd be doing during winter break".

Before catching the train that would take him home, he stopped by a shop in town. A few weeks ago, he'd put a bracelet on layaway, and today he made the final payment. The lady at the shop smiled and asked him if it was for a special girl as she wrapped it in a maroon colored velvet box.

He'd been home to Avonlea nearly every weekend, but no weekend seemed long enough, and today he was over-the-moon because he had two whole weeks to spend with Anne before the spring term began at Queens.

* * *

It was so cold that Matthew and Marilla did not want Anne and Walter to go to the train station- the buggy ride with the snow and the cold wind in their faces would be too much. Marilla did not like the idea of _any _of them being out in that cold- and Matthew wasn't getting any younger- but _someone _had to go and so Matthew it was.

"Gilbert's almost here!" Anne told Walter, again lifting him up the window to see.

Gilbert could not breathe when he walked in, being smacked so hard he nearly fell over- the two bodies that hit him the second he was through the door knocked the wind out of him.

Anne was kissing him before he could get his breath back.

Walter did not like being ignored, and pulled Gilbert's hand and jumped up and down until at last Gilbert and Anne broke apart and Gilbert reached down to pick up the impatient little boy.

"I wanna go to your house," Walter said. "And meet the duckies."

"Duckies?" Gilbert asked, looking at Anne.

Anne smiled. "Walter, I made up that story, it was only pretend."

To Gilbert she explained, "Every night I have to tell him a 'gil-ber' story. Last night it was you inviting a bunch of ducklings over to play croquet."

Gilbert laughed, squeezing Walter to him. "There _are_ duckies in a pond near my house," he told him. "But it's winter now, so they aren't there anymore. It's too cold. But you and I could go sledding. Would you like that?"

This had to be immediate- Gilbert wasn't there more than an hour before the three of them were off, tobogganing down the hill with Walter shouting in delight.

They were gone so quickly that Marilla did not have time to stop them from being foolish enough to go out in these freezing temperatures.

* * *

"Have they given you any homework to do during the break?" Marilla asked as she set the steaming pot of stew on the table.

"Surprisingly not," Gilbert said with a relieved smile. "I expected it."

Marilla nodded with satisfaction. "I'm glad for that," she said. "You _need_ a good break after all that- coming in first in your class! Your father would be proud. And so are we."

Anne squeezed Gilbert's hand under the table.

"Are you still doing all right with the one-year program?" Marilla went on. "Because if it's too much, you ought to do it in two years. It won't matter, will it, Anne?" She raised her eyebrows.

"No, it doesn't matter a bit to me if you need the extra year," Anne told him. And she _meant_ this now. She was anxious to start their lives together, but she realized that Gilbert had a lot on his plate and she was willing to be more patient.

"School a bad place," Walter said, suddenly a part of the conversation. He shook his head emphatically.

"School isn't bad," Gilbert said, reaching out and touching his blonde waves. "School is _good_\- you learn things and it helps you have a good job."

Walter shook his head again. "School bad 'cuz it make Gil-ber go 'way."

"But I always come back," Gilbert said, again reaching out to him.

Walter got out of his seat and climbed into Gilbert's lap.

"And someday I won't go away to school at all, and then we can be together all the time."


	162. Anne's Christmas Play

Anne wasn't doing anything.

She was sitting and staring at Walter, who was looking through a book. He turned the pages this way and that, and sometimes held the book upside down. She'd been looking at it with him all week, and now she was done with the whole problematic book and left it to him to figure out.

"What have you got there, Walter?" Gilbert asked, coming into the room with a piece of cake for Anne. Anne took it from him but didn't eat it, her eyes glued on her son while Gilbert sat down on the floor with him.

"Book," Walter said. He held it up for Gilbert to see.

"_What's the Same?"_ Gilbert read from the title on the cover. "Oh, it's a book of _puzzles_. All right. What's the same...look, here are three yellow ducks and two white geese." He flipped through the pages with Walter, seeing what the rest of it was. "Which flower is taller? ...Which tree has more apples?"

After Walter had pointed to the wrong things several times, Anne let out a big sigh without realizing it.

Gilbert turned around, looking at her. "What?"

"He's been looking at that book for a solid _week _and he _still_ can't figure it out."

"Maybe it isn't meant for two year olds," Gilbert said, turning it over to see if there were directions on it anywhere.

"Or maybe he's just..." Anne went silent, then moved on to a different matter. "_Jane_ sent him that."

Gilbert's eyebrows raised. "Oh. I didn't know you were speaking again."

"We're not," Anne told him. "I mean, _I'm_ not. She writes. Now she's sent him a book...she's using the same ploy her mother uses."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked.

"I wasn't responding to her letters, so she sent a gift. That way I'll be forced to respond. Whether I feel obligated to her send a thank you note, or whether I just mail the book back to her and say I don't want it, _either_ way she's getting me to answer her."

Gilbert nodded slowly. He could see Mrs. Andrews using a ploy like that, but he didn't think _Jane_ would think in such a way. He understood Anne's point, though.

"Do you want me to take it back to her for you?"

"No, because sending it back- even if you do it for me- _is _a response. And I'm not responding to her! Not _at all_. I won't give her the satisfaction." With another look at Walter, she said regretfully, "So I'll just let him keep it, I suppose. ...Though it certainly isn't doing him any good."

Gilbert watched Walter. "Maybe he just likes looking at the pictures."

"It would be nice if he got more out of it than looking at the pictures."

Walter dropped the book suddenly and ran to Marilla's room, wanting his rocking horse.

"He asks for '_Aunt Jane's Mama_' nearly every day," Anne said once he had left the room. "Why can't he just forget about her? His head is empty except for the things I _don't _want him to remember!"

"His head is empty?" Gilbert asked with a strange expression.

"Gilbert, I hate that _look_ he gets," Anne said lowly.

"What look?" Gilbert asked, concerned.

"Sometimes, when he doesn't understand something, he gets this dumb, empty-headed look on his face. And then I just begin to think there's...not a lot going on up there."

Gilbert, after a moment asked hesitantly, "Are you sure you're not..."

"What?"

"If you're insistent on looking for something, you'll probably find it."

Anne pulled back from him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing...nothing, I-" Gilbert shook his head.

It seemed they might be on the verge of an argument.

But Walter came back in, already tired of his rocking horse and wanting something else to do.

"Mamaaa," he said happily, putting his arms out to cling to Anne.

But Gilbert scooped him up instead. He tickled him, making him laugh. "Let's play hide and seek," he told the little boy. "We'll hide, and mama has to come find us."

Walter liked this idea.

But the game was easy for Anne to win, because every time she came within close range, Walter jumped out of where he'd been hiding and ran to her, saying "Mama, I _here_, I hide _here!"_ and threw himself at her.

* * *

Gilbert stayed a few nights at his own house until Marilla told him she did not like him going back and forth every day in such extreme weather and that he ought to just stay with them for the duration of his winter break.

"Gil-ber live with us now," Walter said happily.

"For a while," Gilbert told him- not wanting to promise something he could not keep- "Until I go back to school."

"I go _with _you," Walter announced. "I go with you to _school."_

"You'll go to school when you're bigger," Gilbert said. "Not now."

"But I big _now! _I go to school, and mama go to school too."

"Mama doesn't get to go to school," Anne murmured. "But someday _you_ can go to school. Would you like that? You can read stories yourself instead of just listening to me tell them."

"I not go to school," Walter shook his head, changing his mind.

"Why not?" Anne asked him.

"I wanna hear mama's stories," he decided. "I stay with you."

* * *

"Where we going," Walter asked.

"Tonight is mama's play," Gilbert said, putting on a tie. "We're going to church."

"I want to play, too," Walter said happily.

Gilbert laughed. "Not that kind of play."

Once at church, Walter was unhappy because he couldn't stay with Gilbert during the play. Anne dropped him off at the nursery before church.

"He's too little to sit through it quietly," Marilla said, seeing that Gilbert looked a little disappointed not to have Walter with them. "He'd keep waving and calling out _mama, mama_ every time he saw Anne! He'll be all right in the nursery. He'll play with Clara and he'll forget all about the show."

The pastor began the service, and Gilbert gave Anne's hand a squeeze before she left them to go find her pupils.

Anne felt a little frantic, making sure everyone was ready.

"Miss Shirley, I can't breathe in here," one little boy complained. Anne loosened his sheep costume for him, and then began going to every child to make minor adjustments and make sure everyone looked right.

"I can't remember my _lines_," a little girl said frantically, as another began to cry: "I'm afraid to go up there..."

Anne gathered the children together. "Now listen, all of you. You don't need to be afraid. You've rehearsed and rehearsed, and you've done well every time, so you'll do well tonight, too. I know you will. I have confidence in every single one of you. And if you _do _forget your lines, it won't hurt the play- you all know the story well enough now that you can just make something up and keep going." She grabbed the hands of the two children next to her, and they in turn grabbed others, until the whole group was connected, hand by hand. Anne went on, "Let's remember that our performance tonight isn't about _us_, and it isn't even about the people watching us. It's just about telling a _story- _we're putting a story out into the world. And if we can do that with love and joy and pride in it, then we'll come out all right."

In a few minutes, the pastor announced Anne.

"Good evening, everyone," Anne said, her voice stronger than she had thought it would be. "Thank you for coming out in the cold tonight to watch the children in their play. It means a lot to us. ...I want to thank you for the way you've entrusted your little ones to me. I'm enjoying my class _immensely_. I want you to know that, and I hope I have lived up to the responsibility you've given me." She smiled. "And now...may I present to you, your children in..._The First Christmas."_

"Anne wrote the play herself," Marilla murmured to Gilbert. He noted the pride in her voice. Then she pushed that down and said, "Of course, she used the Bible in deciding what to write."

As Anne left, she patted her first little actor on the head. "You're on," she whispered to Richard.

Richard, in a long robe and a hood wrapped around his head, walked out onto the stage and sat down. "Hello," he said. "My name is Luke. I wrote a book, long, long ago, to tell you all about something that happened on the night that we call Christmas..."

Richard got through his speech without any difficulty at all, and Anne stopped crossing her fingers.

Next came Agnes, the little girl who was playing Mary, mother of Jesus. She was followed onstage by Henry, the boy who was playing the angel Gabriel.

"Mary," Gabriel said.

But Mary did not turn around. She had gotten her skirt caught on a bale of hay, and was trying to pull it off.

"Mary!" Gabriel repeated, walking closer and poking her in the shoulder.

Mary jumped, nearly shouting.

Anne's cheeks grew pink at the stifled noises around her as the congregation tried not to laugh.

"Mary, I have come to tell you something," Gabriel announced loudly.

But Gabriel was supposed to _introduce _himself, _before _he told her he had news for her. Because he hadn't introduced himself, Mary asked instead:

"Who _are _you, anyway?"

Again there was stifled laughter.

"I am an angel called Gabriel," he finally remembered. Moving on, he repeated his first line: "I have come to tell you something."

But it seemed Gabriel forgot his actual line, and tried to manage with what he knew was supposed to happen next:

"You're having a baby. ...Congratulations."

Anne was embarrassed that this again caused laughter.

This time the laughter was loud enough to distract the children, and Mary looked thrown off. "Miss Shirley," she whispered loudly to Anne in the first row. "Am I supposed to be happy about this? Or sad? I forget."

Anne sighed. Trying to be unnoticed, but knowing it was a futile endeavor, she whispered to the girl: "You're supposed to ask Gabriel _'How could this be?'_"

Mary either didn't hear or didn't understand, and put on a mopey expression and wailed, "Why _me?"_

Amid laughter, Gabriel put his hands up, saying, "Don't shoot the messenger!"

And then Mary and Gabriel stood still, staring at each other, neither knowing what was to come next.

Anne wanted to sink into the floor.

Finally, to fill up the space, Mary asked, "Why did you have to tell me this?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Look, lady, it was my job, all right? God just sent me down here. I don't make the rules."

The audience no longer tried to contain their laughter.

Anne stopped feeling embarrassed and laughed right along with them.


	163. More

On the way home from the play, Walter fell asleep. Anne held him snugly in the cold air, having missed him even though they'd only been apart for an hour.

The play, though much of it was disastrous- _baby Jesus, played by a sack of flour, had split midway through, causing a puff of flour dust to come up on Mary's face making her sneeze and then begin crying, saying 'Jesus broke!'_ -it had finally ended well, and the parents understood that the mistakes were just children being children, and weren't a fault of Anne's teaching.

"I'm proud of you," Gilbert murmured in her ear once they were home and alone. Matthew and Marilla had both gone to bed, and Walter was down for the night. Anne and Gilbert were _supposed _to be in their separate rooms upstairs, going to bed. But they had not gone to bed yet and were instead stuck in the hallway, because the hallway was the middle ground between Anne's room and the spare room, and they did not want to go their separate ways. He smiled at her. "You're the teacher I always knew you could be."

"Gilbert," Anne said, returning the smile. "I'm a teacher for an hour once a week."

"I know," Gilbert said.

"And it isn't even for _school _subjects," Anne pointed out. "It's the Bible, not math or grammar or science."

"I know," Gilbert said again.

"Actually," she went on, "A few parents complained about me putting science into my lessons. They told the reverend, this is church, they're supposed to be learning about God, not having science class!"

"What did the reverend say?" Gilbert wanted to know.

"He told them, _Why shouldn't she? If God created the world, then isn't science simply the study of God's work?"_

Gilbert responded, "I like this new reverend."

"Me too," Anne said. "And it's nice...to have more in life than I had before."

Gilbert smiled. "The children _love _you- and to prove it, you have all those little bundles wrapped up in tissue paper and tied with ribbon. I can't wait to see all the little things they gave you."

"I promised them I wouldn't open their gifts until Christmas morning," Anne reminded him. A smile came to her face: "I wasn't expecting them to give me presents."

They somehow got lost in each other's eyes for a moment and could not speak, until finally Anne shook her head, pulling herself out of it.

"I...forgot what I was going to say," she told him with a little bit of a laugh.

"Guess we'd better say goodnight," he told her regretfully.

"Yeah…"

Neither of them moved.

"I'll walk you home," Anne joked. She walked with him about three or four steps, until they were at the doorway of the spare room.

"Um...Gilbert?" she asked after a moment, still unwilling to leave him.

"Yeah?" he asked softly.

"When you came home from school...did it upset you that I kissed you then?"

He looked concerned. "No...why would it?"

"Because of what we had talked about last time we were together...don't you remember? When you said that us kissing was making it _difficult_...that it was hard to just have kissing with nothing _more_..."

"Oh," Gilbert nodded.

Anne waited.

"It _is _difficult," he said carefully. "But...it's all right."

"Then...can I kiss you now?"

Gilbert's eyes changed. "Yeah," he said, reaching out, his hand stroking her cheek. He leaned in to kiss her.

She kissed him back- but after a moment Gilbert pulled away from her.

Anne looked worried at him pulling away, but he smiled, trying to assure her everything was fine between them.

But things didn't feel fine between them.

She could tell he wanted more. And that made her feel bad.

"Gilbert, do you think...I could come in there for a little while?"

He looked very caught off guard. "Uh- Anne- I don't know- that might not be a good idea…"

Anne dismissed that. "I know we'd be in terrible trouble if Marilla woke up and came in here for some reason, but…please?"

Gilbert bit his lip, thinking.

Anne grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

He moved aside to let her into the room.

"Uh...do you wanna talk-"

But the words weren't even out of his mouth before she was pressed against him again.

As they kissed, more passionately than ever, she ran her hands lightly down his chest, electrifying him. She stopped at his waist- but then he felt her fingers suddenly at the button of his pants, and she began to slip her hand under the waistband.

Before she could touch anything important, he pulled away from her, stunned. "Anne, what are you doing?"

Anne pulled away. "Nothing. I just thought…"

There was a silence.

"I thought if...if I could…" Shaking her head, upset, she sputtered, "I just thought if I could make myself _get it over with,_ then-"

"_Get it over with? _What are you talking about?"

"Kissing without being able to do anything _more _is hard for you," Anne began, "But I _want _to kiss...and so I just thought- if- if I could...give you _more..._"

He was just staring at her.

Anne tried to explain: "Well, I don't mean intimate relations, not really, but I thought if I could bring myself to...to _touch_ you, or _something_, then it would be more _fair_."

"Fair?" Gilbert echoed, creasing his brow. "Anne, it's not...a game or a match...fair doesn't-"

"Yes it does! Fair _does _matter. I need to just-"

"So you were going to make yourself do something you don't want to do."

Anne was quiet.

Gilbert sighed. He sat down, pulling her close beside him. "_Darling_...our relationship can't work that way."

Anne wiped her eyes. "But I don't know what else to do."

"Don't do anything."

"Don't you want _more?"_

Gilbert felt he could not answer her until his heart rate to return to normal. "Yes, I do," he said truthfully.

He took a deep breath, trying to get rid of that feeling Anne had left with him.

He finally said, "We aren't even married. Just slow down." He hugged her to his side. "Do you really think we ought to be doing..._things_...when we aren't married?"

Anne shrugged. "Maybe it doesn't really matter that much; we've been together so long already."

"That's true…"

"And it's not like I...have...you know, anything to _guard_..."

"Oh, _Anne…_" Gilbert stroked her hair. "Stop letting what happened make you feel as if you're somehow less than you were before."

He took a deep breath. "Now. As much as I want you to stay, Matthew and Marilla _trust_ me. And I don't want to betray their trust." He stood up. "Come on." He held his hand out, and she took it, following him from the room.

Once at her bedroom door, he pulled her close- _but not too close, because he could not bear to have her body pressed against him- _and he breathed in the scent of her, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. They stood a moment in that fragile embrace until finally Gilbert pulled away and kissed her again, this time on the cheek, saying, "Good night, love. Sweet dreams."

Anne watched him go, then shut her door. She sighed, leaning against it. She had mixed feelings.

"Most gracious heavenly father," she whispered in the dark, "I suppose you probably aren't very happy with me for what I just tried to do. ...But I was only trying to make things easier for Gilbert, that's all. I didn't _really _want to do anything."

Then she had a thought: "There's one more thing...if intimate relations is only supposed to be for _marriage_, then...once we _are _married, could you help me to be able to do it? It's very awkward to ask you this, God, but you're the one who designed us this way, aren't you? So you ought to be able to figure it out for me."

Anne went to bed soon after, but it took Gilbert a long time to go to sleep.


	164. Unfinished Dream

_Her hands, that could only be described as electric, ran down his chest, igniting a fire within him. But when he felt her fingers sliding underneath his shirt, reaching for the button on his pants, his breath stopped short. _

_He did not pull away from her this time._

_On the contrary he pulled her closer, tasting the raspberry punch on her tongue, his hands traveling down her back, not stopping at the small of her back but continuing on, feeling the curve of her behind. _

_She was still grappling with that button on his pants, but in another moment she had it loose. _

_He began fumbling around her clothing, too, so that he could slip his hands into her dress, and when he finally did, his hands shook from the novelty of her naked skin. He paused a moment at her waist, but continued downward, his chilled hand warmed on her hip and then her thigh. _

_They had not yet touched each other between the legs, but now they were going to, he knew. But before he could even move his hand in to touch her there, he was nearly knocked senseless by the feeling of her hands on his most intimate area-_

Gilbert was startled awake by a toddler jumping on his bed.

"Gil-ber awake!" Walter said happily.

"Y-yes, I'm awake," he said sleepily, his face still pushed into his pillow.

"Now we make pancakes," Walter demanded. "Pancake surprise."

Gilbert sat up, groaning, his head falling into his hands.

Walter pulled on his arm.

"Walter, stop," he said. He stretched, trying to move the thoughts out of his head.

"Pancake," Walter insisted.

"Is mama even up yet?" Gilbert asked him. His voice was not as kind as it could have been.

"No, mama sleeping," Walter said. "Gil-ber pancake."

Gilbert was not ready to go downstairs and see anyone, or even to get up out of bed. He just sat there, under his heavy quilt, hoping the dream would fade away and that his body would return to normal, because otherwise he would go out of his mind.

"Gil-ber, Gil-ber, Gil-ber," Walter shouted, so joyful to be able to see his favorite person first thing in the morning.

Gilbert- tuning the baby out- finally, slowly, rolled out of the bed, feeling miserable. He splashed some water on his face.

He looked over at Walter, who was still bouncing on his bed. "Walter, when you wake up in the morning you can't leave your room without mama. Unless grandpa or grandma came in there to get you."

"Why?"

"Because you aren't supposed to be by yourself with no grown up to watch you."

"Why?"

Gilbert's unfinished dream left him with little patience. "Because when mama wakes up, she's going to look over at your bed and she'll see that it's empty and she'll be scared- she'll worry you wandered off and got hurt."

"I a big boy," Walter insisted.

Gilbert sighed. "Well, big boy, your diaper's soiled."

Gilbert stepped behind the screen in the room to change out of his nightshirt and into fresh clothes.

When he finished dressing, he washed his face and combed his hair.

"Now pancake," Walter announced.

"Yes, yes, we can have pancakes…" Gilbert did not know what to do about the diaper. He did not know where Anne had clean diapers, and he'd never been told by Anne that he _could _change him, anyway.

But he didn't have long to wonder. As they made their way downstairs, he saw that Marilla and Matthew were both in the kitchen. Marilla looked up, seeing them coming down the stairs, Gilbert holding onto Walter's little hand all the way down the staircase.

"Good morning, Gilbert," Marilla said pleasantly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gilbert answered. _But not well enough, _he thought.

"Gil-ber pancake," Walter said, pulling on Gilbert's hand.

"He wants me to make pancakes," Gilbert explained.

"Now, Walter, Gilbert is our guest. We won't put him to work," Marilla told the little boy.

"I don't mind, really," Gilbert said. "He likes them, and so does Anne- have you eaten yet? I don't want to intrude if you're already cooking something else."

Marilla shook her head. "I haven't started anything yet. Oh, Walter, let's get you changed."

She led Walter into her bedroom to get his nappy changed; she had some fresh diapers in her room as well in Anne's, so that they could change him either place.

Gilbert greeted Matthew, too, who was reading the newspaper, and the two began a bit of a conversation over the week's news as Gilbert set to work making pancakes.

Gilbert loved his newfound family, but as much as he was looking forward to Walter being his own, he found it a tad frustrating- he would have all the _responsibilities _of a baby...without having had the enjoyment of actually _making _the baby.

But then he reminded himself that Anne had all the responsibilities of a baby without getting any enjoyment out of the process of making it, either.


	165. Holiday's Over

Gilbert was almost glad when it was time to go back to Queens.

Being so very near the woman he loved...feeling the soft silkiness of her fiery hair...the smell of her skin after she took a bath...the taste of her lips on his...

She was intoxicating, and he was drunken in her presence.

* * *

When he returned to his dorm, he began putting his things away, and found that Anne had left souvenirs:

One of Walter's toy food pieces from his picnic set was tucked into Gilbert's suitcase. Gilbert smiled, taking the stuffed tomato out of his suitcase and placing it on his windowsill.

And folded up, right between his nightshirt and his bathrobe was-

_Oh_

-one of Anne's nightgowns.

Gilbert did not know how to react to this. It could not be a mistake, she had to have meant it to be there.

Glancing around to make sure no one was coming into the room, he quickly rolled the nightgown up and stuffed it inside his pillow case.

That night, all the time he was sleeping, he was breathing her in, and though it did not make things easier for him, it did make his dreams more pleasant.

* * *

Anne missed him most tragically when he took the train, and- despite Marilla telling her she was being ridiculously dramatic- when she came home from the station she took to her bed, crying into her pillow.

"Anne, for goodness sakes, think of Walter; get up!" Marilla said, leaning into Anne's bedroom. Marilla felt a headache coming on, and was less patient because of it.

"But Walter is in the depths of despair," Anne said, her voice taking on the air of drama she'd had in younger days.

Marilla came into the room and saw that Walter was curled up in the bed with Anne.

"And that's exactly why you must perk up!" Marilla told her. "Of course he's sad about Gilbert leaving, but you're letting him wallow in it. Get up and get active and he will, too. Before you know it, he'll be laughing and having fun, and that will make the days easier."

Anne rolled over and looked up at Marilla.

"Come now, Anne. Really."

Anne sighed and sat up. Walter sat up too. Anne wiped her eyes. Walter rubbed his, too.

"Look at that- don't you see? He's doing everything you're doing! Now get up and come downstairs." Marilla left the room rubbing her temples.

Anne pulled Walter out of her bed and heaved a sigh. "Walter, we're going downstairs."

"Gil-ber," Walter cried.

Anne patted his little blond head. "I know, I know, but I can't do anything about it. We'll just have to wait for him to come back."

"Tomorrow," Walter demanded.

"No...it's going to be nineteen days," she said, miserable at the thought. "Because he can't come home right away this time."

Marilla's headache grew worse that evening.

The following day, Matthew wanted to fetch the doctor, but Marilla brushed that off. "I've had these before and I'll have them again. I just need some peace and quiet and to lie down and rest a spell, and I'll be just fine."

But the pain was so great that it was affecting her vision and her sense of balance, and as she went down the stairs in pursuit of a hot towel to lay on her head, she suddenly pitched forward and tumbled down the stairs.

Walter, on the floor nearby, went to her.

"Oh- did he trip?" Anne asked breathlessly, running down the stairs after her.

Marilla did not answer at first. After a moment, she said quietly, "No, I was the one who tripped."

"Are you all right?" Anne worried.

Marilla just nodded, her work-worn hands, trembling now, pressing Walter's little blonde head close to her heart.

Anne was confused by Marilla's response...she would have assumed _Walter_ had been the one to fall down the stairs, because Marilla was holding him as if to _comfort_ him.

The truth was, Marilla was holding him to comfort _herself_.

Falling down the stairs had brought to mind a moment she'd rather forget:

One early morning, more than two years ago, Anne had fallen down the stairs.

Anne was newly expecting- so new that it did not show yet, and it was still debatable if she was truly pregnant or not.

And on that morning, after rushing to be sure Anne was safe, a thought come into Marilla's mind before she could stop it:

_Perhaps falling down the stairs has...solved her problem._

But right now- in this present moment- Walter was thoroughly done with being squeezed by Marilla, and he wiggled out of her grasp. _"Grandma squashed me!_" he complained to Anne.

Marilla reached to him again, her hands outstretched, her eyes suddenly wet.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, darling."


	166. Grandma and Grandpa

Anne took Marilla's arm and helped her back to her room.

"Really, you ought to have called out for me, I would have come to help you," Anne told her. "I'm always right here, you know."

Marilla, already emotional over the memory of wishing their precious baby out of existence- was now emotional, too, about realizing that should she ever need someone to rely on- and surely she would, as she aged- that she had _Anne_\- this lovely young lady who she'd grown to love so much.

But all she said was, "Thank you."

Anne pulled back her covers, waited, then smoothed them down again once Marilla was in.

"You stay right here," she said firmly, "And I'll bring you everything you need. What was it you were going downstairs to get?"

"A towel," Marilla said, her eyes closing. "A warm towel to lay over my eyes." She hated to ask someone else to wait on her, but she hadn't asked, had she? Anne had offered, and she loved her for it.

Once the warm towel was over her eyes, providing some weight on them, and hiding all trace of light, she felt she could relax somewhat.

Hours later she had to arise to use her chamber pot, not wanting to make it all the way downstairs and out to the privy. She washed her hands in her washbowl and went right back to bed.

When she awoke again later, the chamber pot had been emptied, and her washbowl had fresh water in it with a new towel and there was a sprig of lavender lying on it with a note that said,_ "Walter wants to tell you he hopes you feel better soon. And so do I. I'll come in and check to see if you can eat some supper, so don't get up. I'll take care of everything."_

_My dear girl,_ was her absentminded thought as she drifted off again.

* * *

With Marilla out of commision and Anne left with all the housework, they relied on Matthew to look after Walter. Anne still changed the toddler's diapers, not wanting Matthew to have to do the most unpleasant of tasks, but the rest of the time he was Matthew's charge.

Matthew found that Walter needed all of his food cut into tiny little pieces, which he had never really noticed Anne doing at mealtimes.

Walter needed his face wiped off after eating.

Walter needed to be held onto as he went up and down the stairs, and couldn't be left unwatched for fear he'd try to climb up onto something.

Walter took a very long time to do anything he did...which patient Matthew didn't mind a bit.

The only thing Walter did quickly was run, whenever something struck his fancy and he dashed from the room, making Matthew go as quick as he could to chase after him.

"_Grandpa grandpa grandpa,_" he would say when he wanted Matthew's attention.

Matthew couldn't help smiling at this.

He remembered with fondness how Walter used to call him _Mafoo_, back before they'd arrived at being grandparents.

It was Anne who'd done it; one day she'd made the announcement that Walter saying _Mar-Mar_ and _Mafoo_ would not be cute for long. "You need _proper titles_," she'd decided.

"You call us Marilla and Matthew," Marilla had said plainly. "He can do the same."

"No, he can_not_ do the same," Anne declared. "Do you remember when you decided I could stay here for good? I wanted to call you Aunt Marilla, but you wouldn't _let_ me, and-"

"You want him to call us aunt and uncle, then? I suppose that would be all right," Marilla said briskly, cutting her off before she could launch into a speech. Truth be told, Marilla did not want to be reminded of that particular incident at all. She could see, now, that the poor child was just so desperate to feel she had a real family. And Marilla felt stingy for denying her that simple wish.

"I thought about it," Anne said. "Aunt Marilla would be all right, except it sounds confusing. How can you be his aunt and uncle if you're my parents?"

Marilla hid the pleased smile and flush as she turned to get plates from the cupboard. "Oh, we're your parents? ...Not a pretend Aunt any longer?"

"Of course you're my parents," Anne spoke with a passion. "How could you be anything less? So by natural order it would stand to reason that you're his grandparents."

"Grandparents, eh?" Matthew had remarked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, _grandparents_," Anne said.

"Do we get any say in this?" Marilla asked, a touch amused but hoping it didn't show.

"No," Anne told her. "The only one who gets a say is Walter. So what do you say, Walter- should they be grandma and grandpa?"

"Yes yes yes," Walter said happily.


	167. Grandpa Sees Walter's Intelligence

Anyone who likes this story can thank Oz Diva, because the story would never have continued without her. Seriously thank you darling Oz. Whenever I get stuck, she inspires me *Hugs*

* * *

Matthew took Walter out to the barn; Marilla needed more quiet than a two and a half year old could handle. It wasn't cold inside the barn, and Walter could run around and jump into the hay all he wanted.

As the novelty of having this freedom wore off, Walter slowed down and came back to Matthew.

"Grandpa," he said, "Jump in da hay."

"No," he told Walter, shaking his head. "Too old to jump in, but let me show you what I have for you."

Matthew went to where his old bag of marbles was hidden. He got it down and brought it over to Walter. The little boy watched with fascination as Matthew emptied the bag into his work-worn farm hands.

"Barbles," Walter said.

Matthew was surprised. "You know what marbles are?"

"Gil-ber has barbles," Walter explained. "Mama got them when we go to Gil-ber's house."

"Oh...are they _here?"_ Matthew asked.

"No, they go back to Gil-ber's house, cause mama say I choke," Walter announced.

Matthew closed his hand around the 'barbles'. He hadn't thought about Walter putting the marbles in his mouth. Perhaps he was being foolish. But then... "You don't eat marbles," he said seriously. He made sure Walter was looking right at him as he repeated: "Marbles _aren't for eating._ All right?"

Walter nodded. "I know what barbles is for. And I don't like 'em!"

Again Matthew was surprised. But then he thought maybe Walter hadn't liked the experience of marbles simply because he'd put them in his mouth and Anne had scolded him to the point that he was now turned against the whole thing.

But Walter's reason for not liking marbles was something else altogether: "Mama put 'em in a row and she say _one, two, three_ and she put more and she tell me and then she get mad."

_Ah_, Matthew thought. Walter's explanation was a little cryptic, but Matthew got the general idea.

"What else does mama do with marbles?" he asked the little boy.

"She put all da red ones here and all da blue ones here and she make me say how many," he provided.

Matthew could tell that _counting_ was not a favorite activity for Walter.

"Well, _these_ marbles don't do that," he said quietly. "Do you want to know what _these_ marbles do?"

Walter looked at him with big shining eyes.

Matthew held one up and then put it on the floor, sending it right to him.

"They _roll_."

Walter caught the marble, and rolled it back to Matthew. He laughed when Matthew caught it.

Matthew rolled two at a time, which made Walter even happier. Walter caught one in each hand. He rolled them back to Matthew.

Matthew pushed hay out of the way and made a ring in the dirt. He rolled five marbles into the ring. He spoke quietly. "This is how you play marbles. Now you take a shooter- shooters are the big ones- and once you've got it held steady, you flick it like this-"

Matthew closed his hand and put the shooter marble on top of his closed middle finger, held in place between the pad of his index finger and the knuckle of his thumb...and then realized that a two-and-a-half year old likely did not yet have the dexterity to mimic this.

But Walter had picked up another marble, and without any trouble at all had positioned it in his hand just the way Matthew had. His hand was too small to hold the shooter, something he seemed to realize of his own accord and used a smaller marble instead.

Matthew was surprised. "You got it," he said. He moved on. "The object of the game is to get as many marbles outside the circle as you can."

He thought he would have to demonstrate the best ways to shoot.

But Walter seemed to understand how to achieve this, without Matthew explaining it. He crawled around the circle finding the best place to shoot.

"Here's a line," he said. "Look, look."

Matthew did not see a line but when he knelt down to be eye level with the ground, he saw what Walter meant- the line wasn't obvious from overhead.

Walter flicked his shooter into the ring and four of the five marbles rolled out.

"Do it again," he demanded, poking Matthew in the ribs.

"You can set them up, too," Matthew said with a smile.

"No, grandpa do it," Walter said.

Walter covered his eyes with his chubby little hands. "It a _surprise_."

Matthew was amused by this and rolled the marbles back into the circle.

"You can look," he said.

Walter went all around the circle looking, and when he didn't find a line like before, he seemed to be thinking.

He shot his marble onto one marble inside the ring, and it knocked into the next marble, which rolled to the opposite side and hit another marble, setting off a chain reaction, and they all came rolling out.

Matthew looked at him in shock.

Walter explained, "There no line this time."

"What did you try?" Matthew asked, wondering if Walter's action had been coincidence or if it was intentional.

"I push it there cause then it push that one and roll over here and this one come out," Walter said.

He and Walter continued playing. Eventually Walter wanted to try to toss the marbles to see how far they could go. So Matthew set up some buckets in a row, each one slightly further away from the little boy.

Walter tossed the marbles into the buckets one after another, never missing, even when the buckets were moved farther away. This did not appear to be challenging for him at all.

He was happy and proud of himself finally, and when it was time to go in for supper, he said:

"I like da way _you_ play with barbles, Grandpa. _Not _mama's way!"


	168. Springtime

Matthew played games with Walter almost constantly, continuing to be amazed by how the little boy had such dexterity and such accuracy in his physical movement at such a young age. Besides that, he had a strong arm for throwing a ball.

Anne- for reasons Matthew was well aware of- could not _see _Walter's gifts. It was a shame, he thought, that she couldn't see anything beyond what he was lacking.

But Matthew knew there was more to a person than their ability to sit in a classroom full of other people and give answers out loud.

"We oughta have a party," he said at dinner, very abruptly.

Marilla and Anne stared at him- forks paused mid air.

"A _party?_" Marilla echoed, as if she thought she'd heard wrong, or perhaps Matthew somehow didn't understand what the word meant.

"For Walter, have his little friends over...for a party," he went on.

They were still staring.

Anne was almost in shock, but answered, "His birthday isn't til August.".

"Could be fun," he finished lamely. Then he went back to eating his dinner.

Marilla and Anne looked at each other.

* * *

"Why is it that you, of all people, suggested a party?" Marilla asked later, when they were alone. "What on earth has possessed you?"

"Thought it would be nice for Anne...for Walter. To play with his friends," Matthew said with a shrug.

Marilla thought her brother had ulterior motives. She had known him too long to believe he was suddenly filled with the desire for company. "He sees his friends at church, in the nursery. And he sees them while Anne spends time with Emily's circle." Marilla eyed her brother. She set down her dish towel and turned to him. "What's this all about?"

"Well, now," Matthew began. "Children _like_ party games...nine pins, ring toss, clothespins in the bucket...things like that."

Marilla was still looking at him with suspicion.

Matthew gave up, telling the truth: "Be a good thing for Anne to notice Walter's the _best _at something."

Marilla understood. "Ahh, I see."

Matthew went on humbly, "Seems to me, mothers like thinking their child _stands out_ from other children."

"I believe that," Marilla said. "You can't be in a group of mothers without hearing someone laud their children to the high heavens!" She sat down at the table with Matthew. "But Anne hasn't done that with Walter. ...There _was _that time Dr. Carter listened to Walter's lungs with a stethoscope and Anne proclaimed his lungs to be better than other babies- why, I don't know! I remember telling her he'd better have good lungs if he was going to talk a mile a minute like she does." She smiled, amused at how Anne had babbled on at the time, then she shook her head. "Beyond that one instance long ago, she never seems to think he's worth praising!"

"I sorta thought when he won that contest at the fair, that it would make her _proud_ of him," Matthew admitted.

"The trouble with that contest," Marilla pointed out, "It was all about _looks_\- and Anne is well aware of where his looks come from."

Matthew just nodded.

"She's making me a bit unhinged with her constant comparison," Marilla said exhaling. "The poor baby can't help whose face and hair he's got...and he can't help it if he has the mental aptitude of Billy either! ...Yes, let's have other little ones over for a party. Anne _must _see that Walter is good at _something_."

* * *

The party was held on a Saturday afternoon. Anne had to explain that no, gifts should not be given; it was not his birthday. Toddlers and tiny "young'uns" as Matthew called them, came in bunches until at last they were all there, and Marilla organized them into games.

Anne watched with interest as Walter easily won every game, no other child even coming close to his skill.

By the time Marilla brought out the cake and ice cream, Anne seemed to be more positive toward her son. Matthew had said mothers like thinking their child stands out from other children.

And, as so often was the case, Matthew was right.

* * *

Easter fell on April 15 that year, and Anne, a little over a month into being seventeen, decided she wanted to make good with Jane. It had been months since they'd last spoken.

She felt guilty, now, for shutting Jane out, because Jane had done nothing. It was her mother. But Jane was too close to the situation, and after Mrs. Andrews had sent Walter's photograph to Billy, Anne did not want anything to do with the whole family.

_Dear Jane_, she wrote;

_How are you? How has your year in school been? I miss you very much. Walter misses you too. He liked looking at the pictures in the book you sent. When I told him it came from Aunt Jane, he was so happy, and asked when you were going to come visit him. It's been a while. He's grown two inches taller since you saw him last, and he can say ever so many new words. He's also proven to have some talent- I won't tell you more but will wait until you are home to see it for yourself._

_Jane, I'm sorry I refused to talk to you these past months. It wasn't fair to you, and I regret taking my anger out on you when it was so undeserved. I hope you can forgive me._

_Anne_

She did not receive a response- in writing. The next Saturday, Jane was at her door.

* * *

On Easter Sunday, Jane sat with Anne, Gilbert, Walter, Marilla and Matthew at church, instead of with her parents. Anne worried Mr. and Mrs. Andrews would be upset by this, and while Mr. Andrews did consider it to be a betrayal, Mrs. Andrews was glad _one _of them could be with Walter, even if it couldn't be _her_.

After church, there was an egg roll for children. Anne's first thought was to be glad it was an egg roll and not a search, because she doubted that Walter would have done well in a search.

As it was, they all watched Walter race with his egg and spoon, beating every other child in his age division. And Anne found that instead of focusing on what Walter couldn't do, she was able to be proud of what he _could _do.

For winning, Walter was given a big chocolate rabbit. Anne would not let him eat it until they got home, because it would have been rude for him to eat it while the others only had small chocolate crosses.

Before heading home, Mrs. Andrews went to her family's carriage and took out a big basket of easter eggs to pass out to all of the children in the nursery. Anne was not pleased.

The eggs were mostly pink, made of pressed cardboard, fragile, with magazine pictures of flowers and ribbons decoupaged on them. _Hmm, I wonder why she chose the nursery children to give those to, _Anne thought disparagingly. _The grade-school age children would have handled them better. But then, the grade-school age children don't have anything she wants, do they?_

But Walter and Clara ran to Anne with their treasures, Walter excitedly shouting, "Look what Aunt Jane's mama gave us!"

Jane, who did not know her mother had been planning to pass things out to Walter's group, looked nervously to Anne for a reaction. But Anne could not cause Walter upset, so she put on a smile and said, "How nice." It was not her most pleased smile.

"Look at my egg," Walter announced, demanding the attention of Mrs. Evelyn Rhine, a woman part of Emily's circle. He held up the cardboard egg. The egg came apart in halves, and the inside was plastered in pale green newsprint.

"That's very pretty," Evelyn said. "Where did you get it, Walter?"

"Church," he said loudly. "Aunt Jane's mama!"

"Walter, stop talking so _loud_," Anne scolded.

"He's two, isn't he?"

"Two and eight months," Anne provided.

Evelyn laughed. "At that age, my Elliot had only one volume!"

Anne couldn't help smiling.

"My egg has a chicken in it," Walter went on, tapping it with his little finger.

"Walter, you know perfectly well there is nothing inside that egg," Anne reminded him.

"That's cuz the chicken isn't born yet," Walter insisted. "When it's born _then _it's gonna be in the egg."

"That doesn't make sense," Anne said, shaking her head. "Chickens _start _inside eggs and when they're born they come _out _of the egg. Oh- why am I arguing with him? He hasn't any sense and he won't listen to a thing I say."

Walter sat down on the grass and shook the egg. "Hi, chicken," he called into it. "Come out soon."

They all laughed.

Walter took the pink egg everywhere with him, until the cardboard was dirty from his little hands.

* * *

Before leaving to go back to school, Jane said, "I want you to know I haven't told my mother even one thing about him."

Anne felt terrible. "Oh, Jane, I know- I'm sorry for _you._"

"My mother has given up on the idea of you and my brother, anyway, so you don't have to worry she's going to try something like that again!" Jane confided, purposely avoiding using Billy's name. "She wanted me to tell you that she feels regretful of it."

"Of course she regrets it, it's what got her cut off from Walter," Anne couldn't help saying.

"She said she wouldn't expect anything from you in future. But _I_ told her I wouldn't pass messages back and forth for her. ...I'm only telling you that so you won't worry about her trying anything underhanded!"

Anne wanted to be relieved at this, but she could not.

After all, hadn't Mrs. Andrews just conspired a sneaky way to give Walter a little gift without having to go through Anne first? It was perfectly clear that Mrs. Andrews hadn't given all the nursery children a gift because she wanted _them_ to have one- it was the only way she could manage to give something to _Walter_.

Anne did not know if Mrs. Andrews was even being honest about not trying to play matchmaker anymore, and what's more, if she would hold to that promise.

But at least she felt happier with her son.

When Jane left, Walter threw himself at Anne, dropping the egg and letting it roll away. "Sing the song," he demanded.

"What song?" Gilbert said, laughing. "He keeps asking for the donkey song, and I don't know it."

"Oh- it's all he wants to hear these days," Anne said with a little laugh herself.

"Gil-ber hear mama's donkey song," Walter said, moving from Anne's arms back to Gilbert's.

_"Sweetly sings the donkey, at the break of day. If you do not feed him, this is what he'll say: Hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw!"_

And then Walter's delighted giggle turned into loud, happy laughter, as Gilbert began turning him upside down every time Anne sang "_Hee-haw._"


	169. Summer

"Miss Stacy has been offered a principalship," Rachel Lynde announced to Marilla the moment she arrived at Green Gables.

It was clear that this news was her reason for coming over; Rachel needed only two things in life to be happy- a bit of information, and a person to tell it to.

Anne already knew this, as Miss Stacy sometimes dropped by to visit her old pupil. Anne had been saddened by the news; Miss Stacy had been a kindred spirit and she would miss her.

"It's a shame for our young people," Marilla said. "But I'm sure she'll be just as loved in her next position."

"I don't think women ought to be traipsing about having lofty careers," Rachel declared, "But _then _I heard that she has been keeping correspondence with a young man she met at a teaching conference, and this new position she's taken on will put her _much _closer proximity to him. We may be getting wedding invitations before too long, and it won't be soon enough! She's a real nice young thing, and pretty, too, and she ought to be married. It doesn't suit a woman to..."

Anne began to tune Mrs. Lynde out. She couldn't help thinking, _If I had gone to Queens, I would be graduating this month with my teaching license and I could have applied for Miss Stacy's job..._

But then she remembered she had planned to go on to Redmond after Queens, so she wouldn't have been in town to apply for the job anyway. That made her not mind so much. She realized how much she would have missed Matthew and Marilla. She didn't really wish to be away from them, now.

"Maybe Ruby Gillis, or Jane Andrews," Mrs. Lynde was saying.

"What?" Anne came back to earth.

"I was just saying that thanks to Miss Stacy, we've got a nice lot of young people in our own community who are licensed! I wouldn't wonder if one of them will get the position."

"Oh, I don't know," Marilla said. "They may want to branch out more- go out into the world and see the sights!" But then, with a glance at Anne, she quickly said, "But I hope so, it would be nice for you to have one of your friends so close by."

Anne shook her head. "Jane and Ruby have both already gotten schools. Ruby wrote to me last week that she got some place out west, and Jane told me when she came for Easter that she got Newbridge."

"Oh, that's a shame," Marilla said. _Of course it's good for them, but it leaves my dear girl alone yet again.._. "Perhaps Moody?" she spoke up, her voice hopeful.

"Moody's felt a calling to God- I don't wonder, given his name- and he intends to enter the seminary and become a minister. He's still going to go to Redmond, but I don't know if he intends to use his teaching license in the meantime or not."

"Good for him," Rachel said. "It does my heart good to know a young person is so inclined. You just never know, these days."

"Moody's a kind boy, I'm not surprised he wants to help people spiritually," Marilla put in. "Anyway he'll do good work in whatever field he's in."

"And I know Charlie Sloane won't apply, I spoke to his mother the other day at church and she mentioned he's staying at Queens another year. So is Josie," Rachel supplied. "But Josie only went to Queens for education's sake, she has no plans to work at all, so I wouldn't expect her to apply anyway."

"Well, we'll get someone from somewhere else," Marilla said. "I just hope it's a person from the Island. And a Presbyterian."

* * *

Anne couldn't believe it when the school year was over.

She was happy that Gilbert had reached one of his goals- going to Queens was the first step in building their life together. But, she was very aware that the next part of building their life together meant missing Gilbert, as he would be attending Redmond for four long years. She tried not to think about it too much, and whenever she did, she tried to be positive.

"Four years isn't _really_ a very long time, not compared to _the whole rest of our lives. ..._And he's done a wonderful thing by finishing Queens in one year instead of two. We'll be together a year faster, that way," she'd tell herself.

Anne knew that Gilbert was a good student and a hard worker, and that his goal was to win scholarship money to help pay for Redmond.

And win he did. He got off the train for the last time with a smile on his face.

"We got the scholarship, Anne," he said, his eyes full of love for her. "The Avery Scholarship. We won it."

Anne smiled, shaking her head. "We?"

"Yes, _we_," he murmured into her ear, kissing her cheek. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh, really?" she asked, amused. "I wasn't even at Queens."

"If you had been there," Gilbert said, smiling, "I wouldn't have won it, _you _would have. ...So now _it's ours together."_

He stopped talking then, so he could kiss her.

* * *

Walter did not understand what graduation meant, but he did understand that school- _the bad place that make Gil-ber go 'way_\- would _not_ be taking him away for the whole rest of the summer.

Anne showed him on the calendar what that meant.

"Look, Walter, here we are- this is today- and here's the day Gil-ber goes to Redmond. Let's count the days in between them."

Walter, who was no fan of math, was happy to see that mama had to count to a _very_ high number before she reached the day Gil-ber had to go 'way.

* * *

Marilla offered to let Gilbert stay the summer with them, but he declined, saying he needed to be on his own land and get in his fair share of the work he'd been delegating to his hired hands.

At first Anne thought he ought to stay with them anyway- he could always drive his buggy over to his house in the morning to work and then drive "home" to Green Gables when he was done for the day.

But then she realized what Gilbert probably wasn't telling her: He did not want to sleep right across the hall from her.

Even though Gilbert was on his own land all through the mornings and afternoons as he managed his farm, and he was back home again for the night to sleep in his own bed, he spent all of his evenings with his newfound family, and that was his favorite time of the day.

Anne often made lunch for Gilbert and took it over to his farm as a picnic, bringing Walter with her. Those were the best times of all.


	170. End of Summer, Start of Redmond

Thank you for 500 reviews!

There will be some time jumps in various places, to get through the first year of Redmond. There is no time jump in this chapter but will be some coming up. As for the second year of Redmond, well, you probably won't want any time jumps there ;)

* * *

"I think it's a wise thing Gilbert didn't stay with us over the summer. After I invited him I regretted it. Not because of _him_," Marilla said quickly. "I had asked him in a motherly gesture, I suppose- thinking we ought to take care of him, being alone in the world now! ...But upon later reflection I realized that I really must be thinking as _Anne's_ guardian...mother. And speaking as her mother, I ought not be allowing the two of them to live under the same roof unmarried. There's far too much temptation! Now I don't think Anne has any prurient interest and I trust Gilbert not to push her, but _still_\- if they intend on marrying each other, there must be boundaries, until a real _official commitment _is made."

"When d'you think it'll happen, Marilla?" Matthew asked.

Marilla looked flustered. "Gilbert will have to finish college before anything else can be decided."

Matthew nodded slowly. "...Medical school, too?"

"Don't you think so?" she asked with a sharp look at her brother.

"I suppose," Matthew said slowly. "But it's an awful long time for her to be alone."

"She's not alone," Marilla replied, offended. "She has us."

"Aint' what I mean," Matthew said.

"I know," she admitted quietly. "Four years- well, seven really, if he's to go on to medical school- it didn't seem so long to me before...when she complained about it, I thought she was being foolish." Marilla shook her head. "But _now- _ now that all of her peers are moving on- Ruby and Jane have teaching positions already!- and Diana and some of the others are continuing on to Redmond after Queens...well, it doesn't seem _fair_ for her to spend such long years just waiting for her life to _start…_"

"That's what I think, too," Matthew said. "She had to grow up before she was ready, but now she doesn't even get to live a grown person's life."

"But moving away with Gilbert while he's in college- _that_ just isn't doable," Marilla told him firmly. "She'll be alone and miserable. He can't help it, he'll have a lot of things to accomplish and she'll be his very last priority."

"True," Matthew agreed reluctantly.

Marilla sighed. "Really, if Redmond wasn't so far away, I wouldn't _mind_ their marriage, because even if Gilbert was preoccupied with his work, _we'd_ be nearby for her to have our support and company. ...I wouldn't have to feel worried for her, then."

* * *

The big finish of their lovely summer together was Walter's birthday.

Marilla made an enormous layer cake with blueberries decorating the top, because Walter's favorite thing to eat at the present time were blueberries, and they needed a lot of cake, because he had a lot of little friends now.

But Walter's favorite thing about his party was not the cake, it was the icecream. Last year, after all the time Anne spent churning, he had only made a face and spit it out, but this year he said, "Thankoo mama," and ate more than his fair share.

Jane brought a gift to the party from herself...and an extra gift that she left on the Cuthberts' porch with the offer to take it away if they didn't want it.

Walter was allowed to keep it, but only because he'd already laid eyes on it before Anne had the chance to remove it.

It was a bear- a huge brown bear, as big as the boy himself.

"Who it come from, mama," he asked.

"Uh...Aunt Jane's mama," Anne told him reluctantly. She didn't really mind if he knew, she supposed it might help him: Even though he hadn't been in close proximity to Mrs. Andrews for several months, he _still_ asked about her often, wanting to know when she was going to come see him. And he embarrassed Anne every week at church with the way he called to her. Walter did not understand why mama would not allow him to go see her, when she was so very near him at church. And Anne felt like a terrible person for denying him his plea.

But Anne was pleased that despite the excitement of the new toy, Walter still preferred the little black bear that Gilbert had given him long ago.

* * *

Only two weeks after Walter's birthday, it was time for Gilbert to go to Redmond. The Cuthberts' decided to travel there with Gilbert and see him all settled in- not only to help him but to help Walter; the sting of Gilbert leaving made less painful by the excitement of a train trip.

"I never gone on a train, mama," Walter said, bouncing up and down.

"Yes you have," Anne told him, holding onto him with a tight grip so he wouldn't run off. "You've been on a train four times."

But of course Walter did not remember.

Anne considered his _first _train trip to be the one they took when she was still pregnant- when they had to go live in the boarding house across from the hospital. She remembered how she had told him, that morning: _"You've never been on a train before. I think you'll like it, except the best part is looking out the window, and you can't do that." _He had given her a good strong kick, and she had replied, _"It isn't my fault you can't look out the window! You didn't exactly grow in a convenient place to be able to do things like looking out of windows! If you come home with us on the train, I'll let you look out the window then."_

And he _did_ come home with her, but she hadn't let him look out the window then, because he was four weeks old and slept the whole time. And that was his second train trip.

His third trip was traveling to the Warrens, and his fourth trip was bringing him home from the Warrens.

Anne picked Walter up, now, pretending it was so he could see the train coming, but really it was just because she needed to feel him in her arms after thinking about the time she almost left him.

She _still _had hard days, and maybe that would never go away. Maybe her view of Walter as _Billy's son_ would never go away, either- the physical resemblance was uncanny, and even her imagination could not allow her to pretend it wasn't so.

But.

He was _her _baby. He'd grown inside her body, listening to the beating of her heart for nine long months, comforted by the sound of her voice and the feel of her arms around him. He had been born to her through pain and hard effort, and he wanted to be at her side from the very first.

She didn't want him to be somebody else's.

* * *

Gilbert, as the recipient of the Avery scholarship, had nicer accommodations than his fellow students.

Walter was allowed to bounce on his bed while the rest of them got settled in. Marilla was already cleaning the baseboards and giving the light fixtures a critical eye even as Matthew was still getting his luggage brought up. Anne brushed off his suit and hung it up, then went over his good shirts as if she thought it was her responsibility to make sure they were all in presentable condition. She had been the one to iron them, before they were packed.

"Let's take you out for supper," Marilla said when all had been put right. "A nice supper before we leave you."

The end of that sentence came out with a struggle.


	171. A Profession

"Four months into the school year and he can't even tell you what the first letter of the alphabet is!" Rhoda complained.

Harriet chimed in, "My Jackie brought home his arithmetic paper and she'd marked it with a one hundred even though he missed six questions! I think she doesn't take any _time_ with her grading, that's what it is. Her handwriting is- well, you should see it. I'm sure she had a stack of papers and she was just tossing them one by one across her desk, scrawling 'one hundred' on them because she didn't feel like grading them properly."

A few of Anne's grown up friends had stopped by for a little afternoon visit, and as Rachel Lynde happened to be there chatting with Marilla, the six of them got into a conversation about Avonlea's new school teacher.

"She was late to school last Monday, and the Friday before," Susan told them. "And some of the older children are saying it's a common occurrence for the class to sit quite a while alone in the building, before she arrives to start the day. Now, I'm not the kind to complain, you know. But I think the school board ought to be aware of such things."

Anne listened with a heavy heart. She wanted badly to be a teacher- and here was a teacher who did not seem invested in her students or their learning.

"I think the school board has already heard complaints," Rachel Lynde said in a low voice. "There's been talk of Miss Smith being let go. Or at least not renewing her contract."

Emily glanced over at Anne. "It's a shame one must be licensed at all; you'd make such an excellent teacher, Anne."

"I understand why teachers need licenses," Anne said, shaking her head. "But I think it's a shame that someone can be granted a license if they don't really care about children."

* * *

Visits from Gilbert came less often.

He needed more time to study and often had papers to write. Besides his academic work, the distance made it impossible: It took an entire day to travel between school and home, so he could not really come at all, unless he had a Friday off. When he did, he would arise at dawn on Friday and not reach Green Gables until after nine at night. He would only have Saturday with them, because on Sunday he would have to get up before dawn in order to be at school by Sunday night.

Walter looked forward to every visit, but cried bitterly when Gilbert had to leave again.

So that Gilbert would not always be the one to travel, Marilla had taken Anne twice to see him, leaving on Thursday mornings so that they'd be there by Thursday night and have the whole weekend together.

But Marilla never found any hotel accommodation suitable in Kingsport, and did not enjoy the trip due to worrying over cleanliness in where they stayed for the weekend.

Regardless, the trips had been _terribly _disappointing- _both _times Gilbert had been given a sudden and unexpected project or test that prevented him from spending any real time with Anne at all, and though Anne tried to do all she could to help him work, she knew that her presence was a distraction and a hindrance during a busy time.

It seemed they were destined to have a rough four years.

Anne knew Gilbert only had eyes for her, but she sometimes wondered, late at night when she was trying to sleep, if perhaps Gilbert would rather have an easier life.

* * *

On a rare visit home- it was finally winter break- Gilbert and Anne were sitting in front of a roaring fireplace together while Walter, laying on his tummy on the rug, was making up his own game involving marbles.

Anne had just finished telling him about the new teacher, to which he replied that he wouldn't be a bit surprised if they let her go, and wished Anne could have the position instead.

"It's just a licensing issue, Anne," Gilbert said regretfully. "If they'd just have let you have a license, you could do the job for sure."

"But they won't," Anne said. "They _can't-_ I haven't gone to college to earn a license. And Queens won't accept me, so I can't enroll to earn a license through them. ...Even if I could somehow get a license, the school board won't hire an unwed mother. Or any mother."

Gilbert nodded slowly.

"It's nice of you," Anne told him, reaching for his hand. "To think I could. But I won't have a profession in life."

"Someone said once that motherhood is the noblest of professions," Gilbert spoke up. But that seemed to fall flat.

After a minute of quiet- the only noise being Walter giving his marbles instructions on what he wanted them to do- Gilbert noticed one of his father's old issues of _Tales of the Mystifying _lying on the endtable. "Are you reading those again?" he asked with a smile.

Anne shrugged. "Sometimes I like to scare myself." Then she laughed.

Gilbert grinned. "I remember Marilla telling you once that the most dangerous place was inside your own head. She said your imagination could be a blessing and a curse all at the same time."

And that gave Gilbert an idea.

"You know…"

"What?"

"You also wanted to be a…" He shook his head, changing his mind. "No, you don't just _want _to be a writer- you _are_ a writer! So why don't you start writing?"

"Start writing? I _already_ write."

"I mean professionally," Gilbert explained. He shifted on the sofa, to face her. "Being a mother doesn't have to stop you from being a _writer_."

Seeing Anne's face take on new interest, Gilbert reached for the old magazine. He turned to the back of it. "Look, there's a note here saying that people can send in their stories to be considered for publication."

"Gilbert, that magazine is thirty years old," Anne said.

"I know," he went on. "But my point is, magazines ask readers to send in stories _all the time_. I'll...I'll find out if this magazine is still in publication! Why, you've written a _dozen_ spooky stories that would be great for them! And there are all _kinds_ of publications out there. Give me a week and I'll find others."

Anne smiled again. Gilbert grabbed a housekeeping magazine from the coffee table. Flipping through it, he didn't find anything about writing articles for it, but he did find something else.

"Look, Anne, they're running a contest," he said. He held up an illustration of a housewife holding up a pan.

"That's not writing," Anne told him. "That's cooking."

"I know," Gilbert replied. "But you ought to try for it _anyway_. I bet you could win it. And you'd see your name in print- wouldn't that be fun?"

Anne shrugged. "I suppose. ...But I don't have any recipes. I mean _of my own_. None that I've _created_."

"What about those cookies you made on Friday? They were incredible." He smiled at her.

"It wasn't _my _recipe," Anne told him. "It was Mrs. Lynde's. ...I just tweaked it a little."

"But that's what people _do_, isn't it?" Gilbert pressed.

Anne thought about this.

"After you changed it, then it wasn't Mrs. Lynde's anymore."

"I suppose so…" Anne began.

"Look, I brought a sheet of stamps with me. Go write down your recipe and I'll take it to the post office today."

Anne laughed. Gilbert was serious about getting her to do all this.

"All right," she said. "I'll try." She went to Marilla's desk to find an index card to write the recipe on.

Gilbert was still reading the ad. He told Anne, "Make sure to be really detailed in what to do, because the judges will be making the recipe for themselves. Don't leave anything out or it won't taste good to them."

"This won't be like the contest at the fair," Anne said with a laugh. "All I have to do is write down my recipe. So as long as _they _don't add liniment to it, it should be good."

The next day Gilbert went into town and mailed Anne's recipe. While he was there, he looked at the magazines for sale and wrote down addresses. There were all kinds of publications, he saw- magazines for children, ones for various kinds of hobbyists, ladies' magazines and magazines of things like detective stories. He was sure Anne could write for _all _of them.

* * *

A few weeks later, Anne received a thick brown envelope in the mail.

It was from the housekeeping magazine company. She assumed it was advertising; that she'd gotten her name on a mailing list by sending something to them. She sighed, thinking she'd have to start dumping circulars every other week or so.

But when she opened it, a green ribbon fell out. She leaned down to pick it up. The ribbon was fringed at the end and had gold letters stamped on it. "_4th Prize Recipe," _she read aloud from it. "_Baker's Dozen Magazine Annual Recipe Contest"._ There was a letter inside telling her that _her_ recipe- and more importantly, her _name- _would be printed in the next issue.

"Marilla, _look_," she said loudly, running to show her.

"Oh, Anne, how lovely," Marilla said with a pleased smile. "I'm proud of you." Matthew gave her a hug when she showed him.

It wasn't a prize for _writing. _And it wasn't even first prize, it was fourth.

But she would be in the magazine, and it interested her to see her name in print.

She eagerly awaited the next issue of the magazine, and when it arrived, she scanned the pages quickly, looking for her name.

Finally she found it: Her cookie recipe was printed in small letters toward the bottom of a page at the end. It said "4th Prize Recipe was Submitted by Miss Anne Shirley-Cuthbert."

Anne had written her name on her school papers in pencil many times, and sometimes in ink, and she'd seen her name written down by others...but never before had she seen her own name in the bold and commanding block letters a printing press stamped when something was _published_.

She was breathless at the sight of it.

She got Gilbert's list of publication addresses, went to the bank to retrieve some of her money from the Andrews, and took out subscriptions to every magazine listed on it.


	172. Gaining Speed

Dear Gilbert,

_The Children's Fairy House_ took my story! They're going to print it in their April issue! I sent them that story I wrote for Walter- the one with the made up animal! It's going to be in the magazine!

I've tried a great many magazines- all I've been doing lately is writing!- and no one's accepted anything, but yesterday I got the letter in the mail and now I'm going to see a story of my very own, published for the first time!

….My, I've certainly used a lot of exclamation points, haven't I?

But you know what, Gilbert? ...It feels awfully good to live a life that can be _full_ of exclamation points!

* * *

Anne's only downside was that the magazine did not want to use her illustrations in the story. They had their own artist, and when the magazine came out, her story was accompanied by his drawings instead of hers. She had to admit that their magazine artist did draw _better_ pictures than she did, but she didn't like that he was allowed to make the mysterious animal in the way he had dreamed up- it didn't look at all like the animal _she _had drawn for Walter.

Anne continued to write, so much so that she wasn't as helpful as she could be.

Marilla didn't mind, smiling to herself as she scrubbed pots and pans after dinner. She was glad Anne felt a sense of purpose.

_And_, she thought, _I'll have to get used to doing my housework without the help of a daughter! She'll marry and be gone from me, grown up to run her own household. _

The thought was bittersweet- how she would miss her!- but how _relieved _she was, to know that Anne _already_ had the promise of a life full of love: she had a good man, one who was committed to her, and a child who adored her...Marilla knew her dear girl would never be alone.

* * *

The next time Gilbert was able to come home- it was a holiday weekend- Anne put her writing aside to spend time with him, until one evening, observing Gilbert and Walter engaged in pretend play, she reached for her pencil and began furiously scribbling away.

Gilbert wouldn't have thought anything of it, except that Anne would frequently stop writing and stare at them, and upon some word or act, would be prompted to take to her paper again. She seemed to be observing them like one would a science project.

Gilbert, curious, asked her about it later.

"I've...I've sort of been writing about Walter," Anne said slowly.

"About Walter?"

"Yeah…" she said slowly. "About raising him."

"Can I read it?"

She let him.

Her writing sounded, to him, like a column in a newspaper, one mothers might read for advice and encouragement. Glancing at the coffee table, he saw a magazine called _Mothering_. "Is this to send for publication?"

Feeling a bit defeated, she finally told him, "I can't write to a mother's magazine."

"Why not?" Gilbert asked, turning the page. "This is good stuff." He smiled, reading an anecdote about Walter feeding himself for the first time.

But Anne seemed ashamed of it. "I've _liked _writing about raising him. And I have a lot of ideas! But I _can't _send them anything, because of that little word that comes before my name!"

"Little word before your name?" Gilbert asked. "What are you talking about?"

"_Miss!_"

He hesitated. "I don't see why not," he began- but he knew she was right. A lady whose name began with '_Miss'_, telling their readers about her baby?

"They'd never let me write anything for them."

"What about- when you send it in- _just _writing your name? No title in front of it."

"Gilbert, I _can't_. You can't send a letter with no title on it!"

"Ok, then sign it _Mrs_. instead of Miss. They don't have any way of knowing."

Anne shook her head sadly. "What if someone we know saw my name in there? There are probably women right here in town who subscribe to this magazine. They'd see _Mrs._ Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and it would be ridiculously embarrassing! And they'd feel _sorry _for me, which is the worst thing of all."

Gilbert wanted to make a suggestion, but wondered if Anne would take to it or not. "What about...what about taking on somebody _else's _name?"

"Like a pseudonym?" Anne asked with interest. "I suppose. ...But if I use a pseudonym I'll lose the fun of seeing my name in print!"

Gilbert shook his head slowly. "I didn't mean to make _up _a name. I meant, keep _Anne. _You'd be _Mrs. _Anne...and then you could use someone else's _last _name. Maybe...you could use mine."

"Mrs. Anne Blythe," she said slowly, trying it on.

Then she looked at him and said, "Gilbert, you just want me to use your name because it makes us sound married!"

Gilbert ducked his head, hiding a smile. "I'm _only _trying to help," he said. "With your problem of your name and title, and all."

Anne laughed. "How _helpful _you are. But it _is _a lie, you know."

"Is it _really?"_ Gilbert asked, impish. "If you were published under the name Mrs. Anne Blythe...and a few years from now, you take that magazine out and look at it again, would Mrs. Anne Blythe _still _be a lie?"

"Could be. We might have gone our separate ways by then," Anne said casually, teasing him.

Gilbert shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. "The name is yours if you want it. I'm not giving it to anyone else."

All right," Anne agreed with a grin. "I will _borrow _my name ...from the future."

* * *

_Mrs_. Anne Blythe's beautifully poetic accounts of her child and all the lovely things she did with him out in the summer countryside delighted the publishers of _Mothering, _who knew that most of _their _subscribers were housewives living in major cities, full of noisy, crowded, bustling streets and factories that pumped smoke into the air. For them, stories of farm life- with imagery of happy, carefree children frolicking among dewy meadows- painted a picture of an idyllic life.

And- as the magazine editors knew- nothing sold better than the illusion of a perfect life.

Anne's piece was published quickly. But she did not tell Matthew or Marilla.

She also did not tell them when _Mothering _contacted her to request she write four more pieces.


	173. Author, Author

After four more pieces, the publishers of _Mothering _offered Anne a regular column in their magazine. It was an incredible honor.

Anne found that when you were a columnist, there were a lot of rules. Because she was officially employed by the magazine- she was on their payroll now, and would receive her checks every four weeks- she could not just write anything she came up with. Instead, she was given specific topics the publishers wanted to see in each issue. Often she had ideas that she couldn't use in her column, and struggled to come up with something on a topic they requested.

She had been thrilled at finding out she was going to be given a two-page spread in each issue, but that meant she needed to write each piece to be exactly the same length so that it would fit- if she wrote even a few sentences too much or too little, she'd have to adjust it.

And then there were the deadlines. Each piece had to be postmarked by a certain date for the editors to go over it with a fine tooth comb. Anne would receive her document back with all kinds of editing marks- removing or re-phrasing lines, and so on- and she needed to have it edited and sent back to them. Once in a while, when she read the published version, there would be a line or two that she hadn't written, that had been added in by the editors just before it went to print.

Being a magazine columnist was fun. But she could see now that it was a _job_. And if writing was to be her profession, she had to understand the ins and outs of the business.

* * *

Anne kept Gilbert updated on her successes, and asked him if he'd mind her using his address as her own. Her checks were sent to his farm, as well as the editing notes the magazine sent her. Anne put up a letter box on Gilbert's front porch, and went over every few days to check for new mail.

Gilbert was excited for her- and immensely proud of her- but he did not know that her success was a secret. She still would not tell Matthew or Marilla.

According to _Mothering _magazine, she was a married woman who lived on her farm with her husband and their little boy. And as her column continued, her story grew. Eventually she had a lovely nursery for Walter, complete with a handpainted mural on his wall, of an enchanted forest full of woodland creatures and fairies. In one column she described it, with directions for mothers to make their own. Her little boy already knew how to read, and she instructed mothers on ways to give their toddlers a head start on their education. Anne told her readers what her husband was like, and described their home and all the marvelous ways she decorated it.

No, she couldn't tell Matthew and Marilla what she was doing.

* * *

One day when Anne went to check for mail at Gilbert's house, she was surprised to find a handful of letters with names and postmarks she did not recognize. Curious, she opened them all immediately and began to read.

_Dear Mrs. Blythe,_

_I am so enjoying reading your column in Mothering each month... _

_Dear Mrs. Blythe,_

_I wonder if you might have advice on…_

_Dear Mrs. Blythe,_

_Perhaps in your next issue you could tell your readers how you…_

Anne gathered up the letters and took them into the house to read them in full. It took her a long time to respond to each of the five women, and when she returned home, she told Marilla she'd stayed over to clean Gilbert's kitchen.

The next time she went, there were more letters, and the time after that, the mailman was unable to close the letter box.

Anne finally gave up on answering all the mail. She wondered how long she could keep this a secret.


	174. I Flip!

Thank you to lovely Oz Diva who wrote a lovely, cozy scene of Marilla and her grandbaby bonding with each other. : )

It's nice to have a sweet moment now since the next chapter is Anne's secret column being discovered. : )

* * *

Anne had been up late writing again but Walter still woke up early. "Mama Mama, geddup." He pushed her shoulder.

"G'way," she grumbled at him, still clinging on to her slumber.

Well if his mama wouldn't get up, maybe Grandma would help. Walter picked up his bear and walked across the room to the door. He remembered Gil-ber telling him not to leave his room in the morning if mama wasn't awake to look after him. But Gil-ber wasn't here right now. Besides, he was a big boy now. He reached up high on his tippy toes to open the door, and left his mama sleeping.

The stairs were tricky, but he always liked the bumpy feeling on his bottom when he slid down each stair one by one, so he did it that way.

Marilla was surprised to feel little hands pulling at her skirt and she looked down at him, "Goodness Walter what are you doing here?"

She looked around- no Anne. "Is Mama still asleep?"

Walter nodded, "Uh huh".

Marilla put down her wooden spoon and swiveled to pick Walter up, "Oof, you are such a big boy now!" She sniffed. "But I see you still need your diaper changed!"

Walter snuggled into her neck, his arms around her. His grandma was his third favorite person in the whole world, after Gil-ber and Mama. She was always so kind to him; with a warm and comforting smell of baking and love.

Walter was getting good at staying dry during the day, but he still slept with a diaper on, just in case.

Marilla laid him down on her bed and told him to be still for a moment. Matthew had made a tiny little carved toy horse for Walter, for the sole purpose of keeping him amused during diaper changes. Without something to occupy him, he'd squirm away at the most critical moment. Part of why it worked is that he only got to play with it while he was being changed.

Walter had a special name for it.

"Do you want horsie?" asked Marilla.

Walter giggled up at her, "Poo Poo Horsie."

Marilla frowned at him but fetched the toy anyway. She did not approve of the name, but the thing had its uses and just as well because he was messy today.

When she had finished she stood up- wincing as her back complained- and asked for the toy back. Walter hesitated; he wanted to play with it for longer.

Marilla knew the last thing they needed was for it to lose its allure, so she insisted, holding her hand out for it. Reluctantly Walter put it back in her outstretched hand.

Marilla smiled at her little grandson as she told him, "Pretty soon you won't have any accidents at all, and you'll be able to go out and use the privy, and use your chamber pot, all by yourself, just like a big boy! Jump up now, shall we make breakfast for Mama?"

Walter forgot the toy and leapt into her outstretched arms.

"I was thinking pancakes this morning, do you think Mama would like that?"

Walter bounced in her arms, and yelled, "Yayayayayay!"

"Shhh," Marilla scolded gently, her fingers to his lips. "Let's let Mama sleep."

Chastened, Walter lessened his volume, whispering, "Yayayayay."

Marilla smiled. "That's better. Now, Grandpa will be in with the milk soon, but I think I have some left over from yesterday," she said, setting Walter down on the table. "But first of all, we have to wash our hands!" She began pumping water into a bowl and topping it up with some warm water from the kettle. Together they washed his hands and hers, and then dried them on a tea-towel.

Walter stood on a chair by the table. Marilla had made him his very own apron and she tied this around him now, it practically covered his nightgown from top to toe.

"Does Gil-bear want to watch us cook?" she asked Walter, who nodded.

Marilla set the little black bear Gil-ber had given those years ago, now affectionately called Gil-bear, facing them.

"Right then, a bowl for you and a bowl for me," she said, setting one down for each of them.

She showed Walter how to crack an egg in and poured in a little flour. Handing him a wooden spoon, she watched as he clumsily stirred the two together, thinking that Anne would get a good lie-in at this rate.

His spoon banged against the side as she whisked her two ingredients together skilfully. She poured a little milk in his bowl and some more in her own and stirred again, wincing when his liquid sloshed out, but smiling and telling him to be a little gentle, "Easy does it, darling," she said.

She had a pat of butter in the pantry, so she left him stirring his batter and went to fetch it. The stove was cranking out some lovely heat. When she had determined that the batter was ready, she dropped some butter into a frying pan and then ladled some batter in.

Walter swivelled around on his chair to see.

"See how the bubbles form and then break?" Marilla said, pointing to them.

Walter nodded watching avidly.

"When they do that, we know we have to flip the pancake," Marilla explained. She wrapped a tea towel around the handle then picked up the pan and half threw it into the air.

"No!" Walter cried, dismayed that his grandma was throwing the pancake away.

He gave an audible gasp when she caught the pancake in the pan and turned to her laughing.

Recklessly, perhaps happy to have an audience, Marilla had a thought. "Do you want a go?" she asked Walter.

His eyes lit up, and he held his hands out for the pan.

"Careful now, it's very hot," Marilla warned, but Walter knew what to do. He grabbed the pan with the tea-towel and flipped the pan just as he had seen Marilla do and smiled when the pancake landed upside down in the perfect spot.

Despite giving him the chance to do it, Marilla never really expected he'd be so good at it first go. She put her hand to her mouth in shock.

The back door opened and closed bringing in a strong scent of the outside, but Marilla never turned instead watching her clever grandson flipping the pancake back and forth effortlessly.

"What's this now?" Matthew said as he came in. "Oh."

Marilla kept her eyes on Walter with his new-found skill and said quietly so as not to break the spell- "Yes."

"Golly."

Walter looked up at them both and said proudly, "Grandpa, I flip!"

"You certainly do," Matthew said slightly in awe. It was a hard-won skill many years ago and one he'd never really gotten the knack for.

Marilla decided that the poor pancake had had enough by now, so she intervened asking Walter if Matthew could eat it.

Matthew looked at it quizzically not sure if he even wanted it, and instead offered it to the maker. Walter was almost sorry to eat his pancake, but dressed in sugar it did look pretty so he contentedly watched Marilla cut it up for him on his plate and picked up the first piece with his fork.

"Yum," he declared smacking his sugary lips together.

As they smiled fondly at him- both siblings thought how much they adored him.

Marilla had been quite petrified to have a baby in the household, but now she couldn't imagine life without him. He was a dear little fellow.

Their reverie was interrupted by the sound of Anne's footfall on the stairs.

Anne had been woken up by the aroma of pancakes- her favourite breakfast. A dim memory of being shoved by Walter played in the recesses of her mind, but it could have been any morning.

Yawning, she cast around for her slippers and fetched her dressing gown from the back of a chair. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she stopped in astonishment when she saw the tableau in front of her.

Walter looked up at her approach and called out, "Mama, I flip."

Anne looked at them curiously. Walter bounded out of his chair, but instead of running over to her, begged Marilla to give him another go. Marilla obliged, giving him the pan and ladling a dollop of batter in.

Anne came closer and they watched the bubbles form and pop, Marilla practically holding Walter back from the next part.

When it was ready to go, Marilla nodded to Walter who enthusiastically threw the pan into the air. They watched- as if in slow motion- the pancake flipped into the air, rolling over and over. In his eagerness it nearly touched the ceiling but fell back just in time and landed with a distinctive smack back in the centre of the pan.

"See Mama, I flip," said Walter proudly as Anne clapped in amazement.


	175. Mrs Blythe Has a Visitor

Mrs. Scheper was on the magazine board.

A tall woman- well meaning but rather pushy- full of ambition, drive and independence, she could be a formidable person to meet. Anne did not expect to meet her so abruptly.

Gilbert was _home-_ finally, at long last, the first year of Redmond was over, and summer promised to be full of splendor.

Mrs. Scheper came to Gilbert's farm one early afternoon. Anne was in Gilbert's father's bedroom, with a chamber pot and a little boy who'd nearly had an accident, so she did not get to meet her guest at the door.

Unfortunately for Anne, Marilla _did_ meet her guest as she approached.

"Pardon me," Mrs. Scheper inquired once she got close enough to call out. "Is this the Blythe farm?"

"Yes," Marilla answered, looking at her quizzically. It wasn't very often that strangers came to call.

"I'm Mrs. Grant Scheper," the lady said loudly, announcing herself and reaching out to shake Marilla's hand firmly. "I was hoping to meet Mrs. Blythe."

"Mrs. Blythe?" Marilla repeated. Her first thought was that this was some old relation of Gilbert who had been out of touch with the family long enough that she wasn't aware of Gilbert's mother's passing.

"Mrs. Anne Blythe," she clarified. "I'm from the board of _Mothering_ magazine. Are you headed that way too? Why, of course you are. I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," Marilla stated. "But it's Marilla Cuthbert."

"Oh! Marilla Cuthbert! You're Anne's mother!" And she reached for Marilla's arm, pulling her close as if they were old friends.

"Yes, I suppose I am," Marilla said, caught off guard at realizing that 'Mrs. Blythe' was _not _Gilbert's mother but instead was her _Anne_.

"You must be so proud of her success! My goodness, we've never done better. Our readers so look forward to her columns every month. They're _warm_, but with a touch of _humor_, too. And her _descriptions-_ why, it's as if you're really _there-_ and now we _are_ here. How exciting! And the fan mail, I'm sure you've all been simply _inundated_ with it. That's what comes of success, mind you-"

As Mrs. Scheper was saying all this, she was making her way up the front porch, dragging Marilla beside her.

"Do you live _near? _It's just perfectly lovely if you _do_. You're able to visit all the time, I'm sure. What a relief for a mother of a little one! Do you think they'll have any more children? Walter is three, isn't he, but you don't suppose he'll be an only child, do you?"

"Uh-"

Mrs. Scheper was knocking on the front door.

Gilbert came to get it.

"Good afternoon," the lady chirped, bubbly. "Mrs. Grant Scheper, from _Mothering_ magazine? I was hoping Mrs. Blythe was home. I was in the area and I thought, wouldn't it be wonderful to stop by and meet our newest and brightest? I could even do a little interview- a '_behind the scenes_', so to speak- get to know the _real _Mrs. Blythe!"

"Yes," Marilla cut in, her voice a bit hard. "Have you any idea where _Mrs. Blythe _might be?"

Gilbert looked at Marilla, as if needing help, but Marilla refused to offer any.

"Uh...come in," he finally said. "Both of you."

Gilbert let the two ladies in, but then did not know what to do with them. He stood with them uncomfortably in the parlor and finally said, "I'll see what's keeping my...uh, Anne."

But before he could say or do anything else, Walter raced into the room.

Mrs. Scheper exclaimed, "Walter! I'd know him anywhere! He's exactly as Anne described! Come here, pet. I'm an enormous fan of your mama!"

Walter was still deciding if he wanted to like this lady or not, and instead went to Gilbert, who caught him up in a hug.

"I'm sorry but you are…?" Mrs. Scheper said boldly.

Gilbert again looked like he didn't know what to do. To this woman, he was _supposed _to be Anne's _husband._ But how could he say so in front of Marilla?

Marilla finally decided she must rescue the situation despite not knowing in full what was going on. Sounding dismayed- she didn't approve of her own decision to lie but it seemed it could not be helped- she sighed and gave in: "This is Gilbert. He's Walter's...father."

"_Gilbert?_" Mrs. Scheper exclaimed. "You're Gilbert! Of _course_. Oh, my. I've read _all_ about you in Anne's column but I had no idea I was in the very presence! How delightful. ...I must say, you're a bit younger than I expected!"

And Anne was even younger. Gilbert did not want to go get her.

Suddenly there was a terrible racket from the room Anne was in- fits of coughing and retching, and Gilbert spoke up quickly, "Uh, about Anne. I'm afraid she's ill. Very ill. Can't have any visitors."

"What a shame," Mrs Scheper simpered. "And I came all this way! I had hoped to just ride by and see her before I traveled on. I'm visiting my nephew."

She turned to go, reluctant, but then- "I have a brilliant idea!" she gushed. "Absolutely brilliant! Since Anne is indisposed, why don't I interview _you? _Our readers would _love _to hear from Anne's family. They just _adore _her, you know. They'd be tickled pink to get to know the whole crew!"

Anne was at the door, cringing- how in the world had this happened? Marilla here in the house with this stranger- this stranger who was employing her to tell all kinds of lies- but what could she do now?

She couldn't go out there, not for anything. Thank God Gilbert had understood her coughing.

Mrs. Scheper had noticed Gilbert looked awfully young to have a three year old child- how would it look for Anne, who was only seventeen, to come out with the three year old?

She hated that Walter had raced out of the room and she hadn't been able to grab him. Maybe he would say something helpful, she thought. Something helpful, like '_grandma, make that lady go home_'. Yes, that would-

"Stay here and read me this book," Walter demanded.

_Ugh_, Anne groaned. Not only was it rude- _Walter, you can't demand things from people_, she silently told him- but it was also perhaps the least helpful thing he could have said.

"Oh, you little _dear_," Mrs. Scheper crooned, taking the book he was holding out to her. "Of _course_."

But then it became worse.

"You know, I would love to see _you_ read, darling. Your mama wrote _all_ about how she taught you to read when you were only two years old, and now all our readers are trying to do the same." She looked up at Marilla and Gilbert. "They were so _impressed_ with her teaching techniques. Why she didn't take up a teaching career I'll never know. But some of our readers have written that they've tried her techniques with great success!"

Listening at the door, Anne felt miserable. _Glorious_, she thought- _my techniques will work on everybody else's child, but not my own._

"So go on, pet, let me see you read."

"Uh- Walter doesn't feel like reading now," Gilbert tried to begin, but Walter had already opened his mouth and began.

Walter could not read, but he _could_ perform.

"Here is an animal that we know. H-I-P-P-O." He turned the page. "Here is a bear, soft and cuddly. Here is a duck, yellow and puddly."

Gilbert took the book away from him before Mrs. Scheper would have time to notice that Walter was holding it upside down.

Marilla looked at Gilbert in surprise. He shrugged. Everyone had read that book to Walter so many times that he knew it by heart, now.

"You know," Marilla said, "I don't think we ought to...give any interviews, without Anne. She's not feeling well and here we are, sitting outside the room chatting! I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come some other day."

Mrs. Scheper looked put out, but slowly stood to go.

At the door she turned back. "Oh, you must let me see the nursery before I go!"

They stared at her.

Walter had no nursery- not at Gilbert's house, and not at Anne's either- he slept in Anne's little gable room, in a small bed pushed up against one wall.

Mrs. Scheper was gushing: "Our readers were so inspired- positively inspired!- by her ideas and her description of the mural she painted on Walter's nursery walls. It drew up quite a commotion, most people wouldn't paint directly on the walls, you know."

"Most people wouldn't," Marilla agreed.

"I'm afraid I can't," Gilbert said. "Show you, I mean. We're changing things around- doing a lot of redecorating- and the murals been covered up by wallpaper. He's getting to be a big boy now, so no more baby room…"

"What a shame, to cover up such beautiful artwork!" Mrs. Scheper exclaimed. "I think she ought to have left it there for the next one! But I don't wonder at you doing redecorating, I thought when I came in that things seemed to be a bit muted from how Anne described them. You don't have all those indoor plants all over the parlor…"

"We moved them," Gilbert said. "For the warm weather."

Mrs. Scheper was on her way out.

Gilbert ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to have a talk with Anne. She might at _least _have let him _in _on some of her lies, so he wouldn't have been caught so unaware.


	176. Exposed

When Mrs. Scheper was safely out of sight, Gilbert turned to Marilla. "I...I don't know what to say," he began. "I told Anne she could use my name, but I didn't know-"

"I'm going to take him home," Marilla said, interrupting Gilbert, and taking Walter by the hand. "_You_ can sort out what's what. Tell Anne I'll speak to her when she comes back."

Marilla did not sound happy.

Gilbert couldn't blame her. He wasn't feeling too happy with Anne at the moment either. He went back to his father's room and tapped hesitantly on the door. "Anne?"

Anne was still huddled by the door, not wanting to see _anyone_. She was so _embarrassed_. She felt like crying. But finally she got up off the floor and opened the door.

"Anne," Gilbert said upon sight of her.

His tone of voice made Anne start to cry.

Gilbert's face changed and he reached out for her, enveloping her in a hug. "I'm not mad at you," he said softly, squeezing her to him. "I'm not. I just…" He trailed off, then laughed. "It would have been nice to know if someone's going to show up expecting there to be trees in the parlor…"

Anne couldn't help laughing a little bit at this.

Gilbert pulled away from her, stroking her hair, looking lovingly at her. "You really got carried away, didn't you?" He said. "I'm sorry none of it's true. But we could _make_ it true. You can paint a mural...and we can bring in plants..."

Anne shook her head. "It doesn't matter if we do any of that...I don't think it'll make a difference. But thank you."

She wiped her eyes. "I better go home."

As she walked off, Gilbert thought about how she _ought_ to have those things- her own house, to decorate any way she wanted, with a nursery for her child...and a ring on her finger.

He didn't think he could take another year of being apart from her. Queens had been different; he could come home on the weekends. Redmond was too far.

...Should he do something else? He could farm- he _had_ a farm. It would be easy enough. He could stay home, and they wouldn't have to be apart.

But he wanted more: College, medical school, and a career making sick people better. And most importantly he thought he could offer his family a better life that way.

He could not drop out of college.

But this just wasn't working.

* * *

Anne slipped quietly in through the door and tried to make it upstairs without anyone noticing she was home. She just wanted a few minutes to herself, to think, before she had to face Marilla.

But Walter wouldn't allow her that.

"_Mama's home!_" he cried out gleefully.

Anne stopped on the stairs, a feeling of dread resting on her shoulders the moment Marilla came into the room.

"Come down here, please," Marilla said.

Anne did.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Please don't make me stop writing, Marilla," Anne begged in a rush, tears coming to her eyes again. "I know it's wrong to tell a lie, but-"

"_A_ lie? As if there was just one?"

Seeing Anne cry, she softened a bit. "Come and sit down."

Anne, seventeen, felt like she was a little child again, about to be scolded. She tearfully repeated herself: "_Please_ don't make me stop writing…"

"I'm not going to make you stop writing," Marilla said, put out. "But I don't understand why you kept this a secret from us. We'd be _proud_ of you being chosen to write for a magazine! It's certainly nothing to hide!"

Anne wiped her eyes. "I was embarrassed because it's about being a mother...I didn't think you'd approve- because I have to lie. ...I _have_ to, Marilla! I can't even use my own last name. I had to use _Mrs.!_"

"Yes, I know," Marilla said calmly. "I understand. I don't like you lying, but I do understand."

What Marilla did not understand was why Anne was crying. "There's nothing to cry over," she told her, as if Anne was being ridiculous.

"You have no idea what it's like to be unmarried!"

"I don't?" Marilla asked, a touch amused.

Anne explained, "Marilla, I _hate_ not being married! I mean, it isn't even that, exactly. It's being a mother _without _being married. It's _awful_. And maybe it wouldn't have to be so awful if everyone didn't _make_ it awful!"

Marilla patted her hand. "I understand, Anne, but the facts are the facts. Did Gilbert know about all of this?"

Anne shook her head. "He's the one who came up with the idea of me being Mrs. Anne Blythe. But no, the _rest_ of it...I didn't tell him...I didn't tell him about _any_ of my lies." She took a deep breath. "He kept asking if he could see my column, and he wanted to subscribe to the magazine just to see me in it, but I...I kept putting him off. Now he knows why."

"Was he upset, after I left?"

Anne bit her lip. "I could tell he was unhappy with me. But he didn't show it very much. He told me we could make the lies true and they wouldn't be lies anymore- I could paint on the walls, and bring plants in to make it look the way I wanted."

"He cares a lot for you, doesn't he."

It wasn't a question.

Anne felt like crying all over again. Gilbert did love her. She'd put him in an awkward situation, but he got over it quickly and had tried to comfort _her_.

Marilla cared for her, too. Anne realized that Marilla _could_ have outed her to Mrs. Scheper. She _could_ have made Anne come out of the room and confess to Mrs. Scheper that it had all been a lie and made Anne apologize to face to face. But she hadn't. Marilla and Gilbert had both covered for her.

Looking at Anne, sniffling and rubbing her eyes, Marilla said, "But I think seventeen is awfully young to get married."

"I was awfully young to have a baby, too, but _that _still happened."

There was a silence.

Marilla tried to sound comforting. "I understand perfectly that being an unwed mother is an difficult position to be in. But you ought to get married for love, not just to avoid discomfort!"

"We _do_ love each other," Anne whispered.

"I know," Marilla said softly.

After a moment of quiet, there being no way to fix the situation, she said- smiling a little bit- "I noticed Walter pretending to read."

"That's because he can't do it," Anne said, a shuddery breath escaping her.

"But you may have found the way he _learns_ best, Anne!" Marilla said encouragingly. "Now, maybe he hasn't done very well with things on paper, so far- but he can remember things he _hears_."

"I guess so," Anne shrugged.

"Mrs. Scheper wanted to know if you and Gilbert were going to have any more children."

"We can't," Anne told her. "We aren't married."

"Well, I don't see that there's much else to discuss here," she said. "Dry your tears."

Anne impulsively leaned in and hugged her. Marilla, always taken by surprise when she was hugged, pressed Anne to her in an embrace.

Anne got up and started for the stairs, intending to wash her face.

"Anne?" Marilla called back to her. "There's just one more thing."

_Oh, no_, Anne thought. "What is it?"

Marilla smiled. "Could I read it?"


	177. Green

_Thank you, Oz Diva, for being my friend._

...After all, if we weren't friends, she probably wouldn't take too kindly to me flat out stealing from her. Oz wrote an essay entitled "Green", and when she showed it to me, I said to her, "_Hey, oz, this is perfect as a piece Anne might have written for her magazine!_"

So, the magazine column in this story is **_hers_**, but she's too nice to get me for plagiarism :-D What are friends for?

(I added in the end about Walter, though.)

If anyone is interested, **Oz Diva and I are actually co-writing a story together!** It's called Joy and Comfort, a series of letters between Anne (played by me) and Marilla (played by Oz) set in the time during _Anne's House of Dreams_. It's on Archive of Our Own. :)

* * *

_Green, it's such a simple word but it has so many hues; the English language fails to do it justice. My front garden is a myriad of greens interspersed with pops of colour. _

_The bright, almost fluorescent, green stalks of the ixia form a border, beautiful en masse even before it bursts into golden flower in a couple of months' time. The blueish grey green of the grevillea, with delicate bright pink flowers dancing in the wind; stamens loaded with nectar to entice the birds and insects. On the ground some native creeper, dark-green leaves this time weaves its way through the undergrowth unchecked, its bright red flowers peeking through. The grass tree in its pot has fine spikes above its slow-growing trunk of dead spines, the occasional dead spike accentuates the blueish green of the rest of the plant. Elsewhere an overgrown native grass reminds me that winter is coming to a close and it might be time to get into the garden for some trimming. This grass is falling over and smothering a nearby plant, looking for all the world like a stationary green porcupine, though not as prickly. _

_A tiny golden button-grass flower, hopefully the first of many, is nestled above oval leaves covered in a soft fuzz. The Geraldton Wax is just breaking out into vivid white flowers, the ones still waiting are a gorgeous pink on a waxy small-leafed bush. Further over several bushes tumble into and out of each other's space in a delicate if unmannered dance. One is green and spikey, the other blue and soft, no flowers on either at present. In the background a succession of grasses raise their spikes to the sky. _

_In summer the crimson pink 'fairy fishing rod' flowers nod and dance in the wind, way above the other plants, but for now they merely look like any other native grass. The bright purple native hibiscus's petals furl out in a in an overlapping circle on spindly long branches, they contrast nicely with the far softer small violet flowers of the native mint. _

_It's too early yet, but I'm looking forward to the silver princess gum tree flowering. The gum nuts burst forth in a profusion of soft spiked pink flowers crowned with yellow dots which hang down from drooping branches. _

_Somewhere in the massed bushes a spotted pardalote builds its nest, though I've never seen more than a brief flash of its distinctive golden tummy and white spots on black feathers. I only know it by its sweet trilling song. _

_I feel very honored that he built his nest in my garden, that I have provided a good home for his family. _

"Anne, this is _lovely_," Marilla told her, finally looking up from the page. "You have such talent, dear."

Anne smiled, but it could not be much of a smile, because after that piece, there was a lot of lying on the page.

_Of all the bursts of life happening in my garden, none is as dear to me as my sweet boy, Walter. As I write, he is running to his mama, flowers in hand, his happy shouts letting me know he picked them for me in the meadow. They are the last of the Queen Anne's Lace. _

_Springtime, in all its glory, is preparing to give way to summer, and the golden, hazy twilight compels me to put down my pen and take my darling in to get him settled for bed. We have a routine, he and I. Stories must be told, songs sung, prayers offered, a star or two wished on- I wonder what goes on in his little mind!- and most importantly, the moon smiling down into his nursery window must be spoken to. "Night night," he says sweetly, waving to it. "Mama, the man in the moon wants you to say night night, too." And so I do. _

That's terribly sweet, Marilla thought.

But the next part was all about Anne's husband coming home from a night of saving lives on his calls as a doctor, and an entry about the following day, in which Walter added and subtracted, and Anne had decorators in to help her plan an indoor garden in a greenhouse they'd be building over the summer.

"What'll I _do_, Marilla?" Anne asked, afraid. "I'm being _paid_ and they expected me to commit to a full _year_ of columns…"

"I don't want you to stop writing," Marilla said. "I want you to stop lying."

Anne's shoulders slumped, thinking then that she'd _have_ to stop writing, because her writing was full of lies.

"First off," Marilla said with a sigh, "I don't expect you to use _Miss_. You were absolutely right when you said you cannot write for a mother's magazine and be unmarried."

Anne nodded.

"But decorating Gilbert's house to look like some sort of...enchanted woodland, that's not a _bit_ true. And having a nursery with a painted mural all over the walls…"

Anne felt terrible for putting Gilbert in a position where he felt he had to lie, too.

"Gilbert isn't your husband, so you ought not say he is. ...oh, I won't make you go back and put it right- that would only make things worse- it won't do for them to know you're an unwed mother! But from now _on_, just refer to him as _Gilbert_, you don't need to keep saying _my husband._"

"All right," Anne sadly agreed.

"Now about Walter reading and adding and all that," she went on.

"...Do I have to tell people he _can't?_" Anne asked fearfully, because she could not imagine having to divulge that to her readers after all she'd written.

"Don't say anything else about it," Marilla suggested. She thought a moment. "You have a lot of ideas for how to teach, don't you?"

Anne nodded. "I do. I was _trying_ to teach him about patterns…"

"Tell your readers how you did that."

"But I tried lots of ways to teach him...and he never could do it," Anne admitted.

"Don't you see, though? Trying lots of different ways means you have a whole list of ideas! Your readers will benefit from that. ...Why, if Walter hadn't struggled, you wouldn't have had to _think_ of all those."

"That's true," Anne agreed, feeling better. But then she said, "I hate to tell them he didn't understand it, though."

"Tell them it's something you're _currently_ working with him on. Because you _are_."

Anne nodded.

Marilla looked at her lovingly, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "You know, Anne, it might not be a bad thing for them to know you're struggling. ...I understand some of these mothers _like _having an ideal to look up to...but I bet just as many of them would like knowing that other mothers have the same sort of struggles they do."

Anne looked down.

"Perhaps...you could write about helping your child _find his own gifts._"

Anne smiled. "I should do that."

Marilla wanted Anne to keep writing. "Just write truthfully, dear."

"I will," Anne agreed.

* * *

Author's Note:

The Mothering magazine column storyline was fun. I wanted to give Anne her own profession since she can't be a teacher and she could be a writer. ...And of course it was fun to write her having this big secret and the awkwardness of being caught when the magazine lady shows up- that was fun.

But now we are well into the summer and Gilbert has to start his second year of Redmond. And I am excited for what is to come.

Hmmm, summer is a good time to have a nice big helping of Shirbert...


	178. Walter is Awful

As you can see by the title, this chapter is not exactly shirberty, but this chapter is a part of moving the story forward and getting to the good stuff and I cannot wait to get there.

….I'm going to be worse than Amybeth with her pen emoji. Lol.

* * *

Anne thought that once summer came, and Gilbert was home, life would be a dream. But Walter for some reason chose this time to become- as Anne put it- _awful_.

He was demanding and bossy and threw a fit every time something did not go his way. He seemed to think nothing of hitting Anne and even Marilla and Matthew.

Anne did not want to spank him, thinking that if they hit Walter, he would only learn that hitting was perfectly acceptable if you were bigger and stronger than the other person. But she often wanted to.

Marilla and Anne both scolded Walter and tried to make him feel bad for what he'd done, but Matthew said nothing when Walter hit him, remaining gentle and patient, and something about his quiet acceptance made Anne feel even worse.

"I'm sorry," Anne cried to Marilla one evening after Walter had had another tantrum.

Walter had thrown his cup of milk on the floor, breaking it. When Anne scolded him, he smacked her in the face, and when Marilla tried to take over, he smacked Marilla too.

"It isn't your fault," Marilla said, surprised.

"But he's _here_. And he's here because of me. If _I_ wasn't here, you wouldn't have to..._deal_ with him."

"He isn't here because of you," Marilla pointed out.

Anne wiped her eyes.

Marilla went on, "And let's not be sorry he's here! Matthew and I _love_ him. We never think about him _not_ being here."

"I know," Anne agreed, feeling even worse.

Marilla patted her shoulder. "We'll get through this."

* * *

When Rachel was there, she could commiserate with Anne. Anne spent a long time telling her tale of woe, how she was trying to get Walter to stop being so 'awful'.

"It's the terrible twos," Rachel said wisely.

Anne was despondent. "But he's nearly _four!"_

"He really was a very _pleasant _two year old," Rachel said about it. "I'm not surprised it's caught up with him sooner or later! Those terrible twos always _do_, you know. I would warn you though- don't be so worried about it that you become overly harsh with him- that could backfire."

* * *

Jane and Ruby were leaving for their teaching assignments.

Anne came to Ruby's to help her pack and spend one last afternoon with her. When it came time for Jane to go, Anne took a big breath and went right over to Jane's house, intending to do the same.

While there, Anne reluctantly let Jane in on her worries over Walter.

After all, Jane might be the only one who could quell her secret fear:

"Ever since before he was born I've worried he would end up being..."

"I don't know how much is just the temperament that a person is born with, but I've come to think that it matters _more _how a person is _brought up_ than any inborn nature they have," was Jane's sensible reply.

Anne felt hopeful. "You really think so?"

Jane thought about this. "The reason my brother acts the way he does is that Mother and Father never taught him to treat people better. When he did anything bad, they'd say '_oh, he'll grow out of it'_ or '_boys will be boys_' or they'd just laugh it off- they made _excuses_ for him. And they never minded if he put someone down as long as it meant he was putting himself or the family ahead."

Anne felt better. She wasn't going to do any of those things in raising Walter.

* * *

At least, she felt better until she got home and found Walter throwing a screaming, stomping fit on the parlor floor because Marilla would not let him push his rocking horse down the staircase.

Anne scooped him up, dodging his little fists swinging at her.

"I shouldn't have left him home! It isn't fair to _you _when I do that. I took him to Ruby's because I _could_, but I'm _sorry_, Marilla, I just _couldn't _take him with me to _Jane's _house!"

"I quite understand," Marilla told her, rubbing her temple. "Of course you didn't want to take him to Jane's. But now that you're back I'm going to have a little lie down. I feel a headache coming on."

Marilla could not come down for dinner. Anne checked in on her later and found her shades drawn to keep out the light.

* * *

Anne stopped going to church because she did not want anyone else to see how badly Walter was behaving.

She found herself crying frequently. She just did not know what to do with her son.

And Gilbert knew exactly what she was worrying about.

"Anne, darling, you can't think this way every time he has a tantrum," Gilbert coaxed. "All young children have them. I used to throw fits, I'm sure. I don't remember but if my father were here he could have told us."

Anne could not imagine Gilbert throwing fits.

"And I'm sure _you _had your share of tantrums. You still do," he said, stroking her cheek, a teasing smile on his face.

"It doesn't count as a tantrum if the person called you carrots first," she explained with a sniff.

Then her face grew serious.

Before she could even say anything, Gilbert pulled her close to him, wrapping her in a hug. "This has nothing to do with Billy," he whispered to her. "Walter is three. He doesn't know any better. He-"

"Don't say '_he'll grow out if it'"_ Anne choked, pulling away from him angrily. "That's what _Jane _told me her parents always said! _He'll grow out if it!_ ...Well he _didn't_, did he?"

Gilbert shook his head, drawing her close again, and telling her in a soft voice, "I wasn't going to say he'll grow out of it."

"You weren't?"

"No. I was going to say he has to be _taught_. We need to _teach_ him. And we'll do a good job teaching him. He's not going to be like Billy, Anne."

Anne lay her head against Gilbert's chest. She let out a shaky breath, and relaxed in his arms.


	179. Breaking Point

In the morning Gilbert knocked on the door of Green Gables, but no one answered.

He saw that the Cuthbert's buggy was gone, and turned away. _They must have gone out without telling me, _he thought.

He knew he could go in- they'd made it clear it was his home, too- but he didn't see any point in being there if _they _weren't. He'd come back later.

But as he started to walk away, he saw Anne dragging Walter from the barn into the house. She had a firm hold on his arm, but he was struggling to break free, in part because her grip on his arm was painful and in part because she was dragging him too fast for his legs to keep up.

"Anne," he called out to her- but she stormed right past him into the house.

He followed.

Anne's face was pinched and angry, and there were hot tears streaming down it. She shoved Walter into the sofa and left.

A moment later he heard a door slam somewhere upstairs. Walter sat on the sofa exactly where Anne had left him, his eyes wide and fearful.

Gilbert stared after Anne for a moment, shocked. He looked back at Walter. Putting one finger up as if to say _stay there,_ he went softly up the stairs.

"Anne," he asked quietly as he opened her door.

He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. She was lying curled up, facing the wall away from him, crying, interrupted only by hiccups.

"Anne, what is it? What upset you?"

Anne refused to answer, pulling the pillow over her head and crying into it.

Gilbert did not know what to do.

He did not know what had happened. He sat rubbing her back for a moment. Finally he leaned down, kissed the back of her head, and got up and left her.

When he came back downstairs, Walter had not moved an inch from the spot Anne had thrown him to.

He wasn't crying- not yet, anyway- but his face crumpled up. Gilbert knelt down in front of him and asked, "Walter, what happened to mama?"

Walter said, "Mama mad…"

Gilbert touched his blonde waves reassuringly and asked, "Why is mama mad?"

Walter said, his lower lip trembling. "I frew a rock at da kitty."

Gilbert just looked at him.

* * *

When Anne had calmed down, she sat up slowly, rubbed her head- it hurt now, after crying- and she rolled off her bed and washed her face. She stared at herself in her mirror.

When she came downstairs, no one was there. Matthew and Marilla were still gone, and Gilbert must have gone too. She did not know where her son was, he was no longer on the sofa she'd shoved him into, and after looking around the house, she went outside.

She heard voices in the barn, and went silently in.

She saw Gilbert and Walter together at the far end of the barn, crouching down over something.

As she slipped in through the doorway, she saw that Gilbert was holding Walter's hands in his own, speaking softly to him as together they cradled one of the barn cat's babies.

Anne stood in the doorway, listening.

"No, don't pull his ears, he doesn't like that. Look, you can pet him under his chin. Kittens like being scratched under their chins. But gentle, Walter."

A moment-

"Listen- do you hear him purring? He likes that."

Walter continued stroking the kitten, talking gently to it, with Gilbert coaching him.

After a moment, Gilbert glanced up and saw Anne. Her eyes were puffy from her heavy sobs earlier, but she didn't look so weary anymore. Gilbert gave her a loving look, smiling more with his eyes than his mouth.

Anne came closer.

"Walter, show mama how you learned how to pet the kitty," Gilbert prompted the little boy.

Walter looked up at Anne.

The fear in his eyes broke her heart.

She gave him a small smile, and he finally smiled back.

"Look, mama, I have a kitty."

Walter's little hand patted the kitten's head and when the kitten licked him, Walter giggled.

"That's very good, Walter," Anne told him softly.

Walter leaned down and kissed the kitty on its tiny head. "Good kitty," he said to it.

Anne smiled.

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Walter, let's give the kitty back to its mama now."

Walter put the kitten on the hay, next to its mother. "Bye bye kitty," he said, waving to it.

Gilbert picked Walter up in his strong arms ready to take him back to the house, but Anne suddenly held her arms out to her son and Walter fell readily into them.

He put his arms around Anne's neck. Anne held him tightly to her.

Together they walked back to the house.

* * *

Walter was overdue for his afternoon nap, and once he was put to bed, Gilbert and Anne talked.

"You don't understand, Gilbert. He frightened me. I know it looked like I was angry with him. But I wasn't. ...I wasn't angry...and I wasn't sad...I wasn't disappointed in him...or frustrated at him."

Gilbert waited for her to explain, if she _wasn't_ any of those things, then-

Anne continued, "I just looked at his angry face- and the rock in his hand- and I hated him."

"You hated-"

"Yes, Gilbert. My own little baby. I stood there, looking at him, and I _hated_ him."

Gilbert was about to say something about it being normal to be upset when your child does something hurtful, until Anne said abruptly:

"And then I looked at his little _blonde_ head and I just hated him even _more_."

_Oh_, Gilbert thought to himself. _So that's it._

He said to her, hesitantly- "This isn't really about throwing a rock, is it? It's what throwing the rock might mean."

She was shaking, but Gilbert didn't reach out to her. Finally he simply asked, "Do you still hate him now?"

Anne looked down at her son. His eyes were closed now, and his covers were pulled up around him, and all she could see was his wavy blonde hair.

"I don't know," she finally said.


	180. Respite

"Anne," Gilbert asked. "Why don't you let me take Walter for a couple days to give you a break?"

Anne just stared at him. "He's too little to go away."

"But he wouldn't really be going away- it's just to my house. And I'm practically family, aren't I?"

"Yes, but…I don't think he can be gone overnight. It'll be too long a time for him."

"What about if I came in the morning to take him- as soon as he's up- and then I bring him back just to go to bed? And the next day I'll do the same thing. He'll be away, but he'll still spend his nights at home."

Anne bit her lip. Her voice was quiet. "That would be good."'

"Do I need to ask Marilla too, or is it your decision?"

"...I don't know," Anne said slowly. She remembered once Marilla had asked Mrs. Andrews '_why is it that you feel our baby should be the recipient of your family heirlooms?' _**Our** baby, Marilla had said. Well, Anne had been young and unable to care for him on her own. They were _all_ raising him- together, as a family. Did that mean she had to ask her parents when it came to decisions about him, or were the decisions hers to make? She wasn't sure. Finally she said, "I'll tell her what I want, and see if she thinks it's all right."

"Why don't you. I'll get some of his things- toys and his blanket and books, and he'll be all ready."

Anne went downstairs and said flatly, "I want Gilbert to take Walter away. Is that all right?"

Marilla and Matthew looked like Anne had grown three heads. "Take him _away?_" Marilla asked. "What do you mean?"

"To his house. Just for a couple days."

Marilla looked like she didn't know where this had come from.

Anne- no patience from what had happened earlier- answered Marilla's expression with a hard, angry tone: "If we're going to get married, Marilla, then why can't he take him? Gilbert will have to be dragged into my mess sooner or later!"

Marilla was surprised.

Gilbert stayed till it was time to get Walter up from his nap.

"Please don't tell Matthew and Marilla I hate him," Anne said before she woke him.

Gilbert shook his head, without a word. He busied himself getting a bag ready for the little boy.

Before leaving with the little boy, Gilbert leaned in to kiss Anne's cheek- more out of duty than any sense of romantic feeling. He wasn't angry with her, exactly. He did not blame her for her feelings, but he was divided between Anne and Walter at the moment, and he could already tell there would be times in their marriage when he would have to align himself with Walter- to be Walter's _advocate_\- even if that meant he and Anne would have some hard edges between them.

Downstairs, he said goodbye to Marilla and Matthew.

"I go to Gil-ber's house to play," Walter said happily, bouncing up and down and pulling at Gilbert's hand.

But no one really looked happy about this except Walter.

"You don't mind taking him?" Marilla asked, eyebrows raised. "I think she can get over this."

"It just seemed like…a lot. For her. Right now. ...I just thought I could help."

Gilbert had Walter's bag in one hand, and he hoisted Walter up in his other arm. The little boy clung to him. Marilla followed them out so she could open the door for Gilbert. "Thanks," Gilbert said to her.

But he turned back. "Marilla..." he began.

"Yes?"

Gilbert looked at her for a moment. "How long do we have to wait?"

Marilla was startled by the question, but she knew exactly what he was talking about.

She looked at Gilbert- standing in the doorway, holding her grandchild in his arms.

"Anne is still very young. She's just seventeen. ...And you're only nineteen."

"I'll be twenty soon," Gilbert tried to offer.

"Yes- and years away from your career."

Gilbert wished he had a career right now.

Marilla continued, "I know that in the eyes of the law, you are old enough to make that decision, but I still think she's very young to embark on such a commitment. ...Were you planning to ask her, Gilbert?"

"I asked her years ago."

He took a breath. "I mean, not officially- not with a ring. Not yet."

Marilla's eyes were kind. She did love him, as much as if he were her own son. "We'll talk about it," she promised him. "You're a fine young man and I wouldn't want her with any other. It's the _timing_, is all. ...There's still Redmond."

* * *

The first day Walter was gone, Anne did not miss him.

She slept late, read a book in bed, and wandered about outdoors with no cares. She did not think about him, and she did not feel guilty for not thinking about him.

Gilbert brought him back that night, just in time for him to go to bed.

When her son was brought to her, Anne greeted the child with little warmth, and she did not ask Gilbert anything about what he had done that day.

Gilbert said goodbye to her, kissing her again on the cheek with a silent prayer for her.

Anne gave Walter a bath, dressed him in his nightclothes, and put him to bed. She did not bother to tell him a story as she normally did, and turned off the lamp, saying only "good night," with a disinterested voice that was not at all what he needed.

This of course caused him to fuss, and so Anne- with a sigh- turned the lamp back on and went through The Three Little Pigs in a dry, monotonous voice while patting him on the back. She didn't seem to be able to stir up any interest in him.

When Walter finally fell asleep, Anne went to bed herself, thinking only of Gilbert returning to take him away again.

* * *

The next morning Gilbert was there before breakfast.

Anne was in her nightgown and robe, with Walter on her hip. Gilbert took him from her immediately, causing Walter to begin to cry as he was pulled away from his mother.

Anne, Gilbert was dismayed to see, did not react to his upset.

Gilbert promised him a big lovely pancake breakfast at his own house, and that was enough to calm him.

That was another day Anne did not miss him.

When he was brought back to her that night, she accepted him only as her duty.

* * *

Walter was supposed to be with Gilbert only for a couple of days, but at the end of two days, Anne seemed depressed that her time free of him was coming to an end.

Gilbert offered to take him away yet again, and Anne accepted at once.


	181. Coming Back Together

On the third day, she still did not miss him, but in the late afternoon she found herself idly wondering what he was doing, and if he had slept well during his nap. She hoped Gilbert had made him take a nap, and hadn't just let him play until he was worn out and cranky.

At the end of the third day, Anne asked Gilbert what they had done that day.

Gilbert- very aware of the fact that this was the first time Anne had even wanted to know what her child had been doing- decided to leave out the bit about the tantrums he'd had and the time he'd had an accident and soiled his pants.

Instead, he told her only the good things, concluding with: "We went to the pond to look at the fish and to throw bits of bread out for the ducks to eat. He liked watching them. Oh, and he counted the baby ducks that were floating along in a line behind their mother."

"Did you make him do that?" she wanted to know.

Gilbert shook his head. "No, he just happened to."

Anne said with a frown, "He's never counted ducks before."

Gilbert said, "Well, sometime you and I can take him to the pond together and then you can watch him count the ducks all you want."

"Yeah…" Anne agreed.

Gilbert, watching her, suddenly said: "Hey, I have an idea. Tomorrow why don't you meet us at the pond for lunch? Say about noon? I'll bring food so we can have a little picnic there and you can watch him count the ducks then."

"I don't know…" Anne said.

"It'll only be a little while, just long enough to eat lunch. And then _you _could go on home, _without _him- _I'll _keep him still, and I'll bring him back at bedtime just like before."

Gilbert thought that if Anne was expressing even the slightest bit of interest in her baby, he needed to jump on the opportunity and help ease her back into his life.

"Well...all right," Anne agreed.

* * *

The next morning when Gilbert came for Walter, he confirmed with Anne that she still planned to come.

In the afternoon Gilbert packed a picnic lunch, but chose not to tell Walter that his mama was going to come with them to the pond, just in case Anne changed her mind and did not show up.

He wasn't disappointed, though.

Gilbert saw a red headed figure coming toward them in the afternoon sunshine, and the sight of her coming over the hill lifted his heart right up to the heavens. He excitedly pointed out Anne to Walter: "Look who that is, Walter! _Mama came to have lunch with us."_

Their lunch was quiet, for Anne, but busy and noisy for Walter. Gilbert sat holding her hand while Walter talked and talked to her about what he had done that day. Anne did not say much, but she did squeeze Gilbert's hand occasionally.

After they finished eating they began walking along the water's edge, Walter throwing breadcrumbs.

_Please, please count the ducks, _Gilbert pleaded silently. As if he could read Gilbert's mind, Walter eventually began counting them. And Gilbert watched Anne for some sign of life.

* * *

When it was time to say goodbye, Walter began to cry again, pulling toward Anne, but Gilbert scooped him up and tickled him to make him laugh, saying, "I want you to stay with me, little guy. We still have to play, don't we? Aren't we going to make a big tower with your blocks?"

Anne knew Gilbert was trying to keep Walter distracted to make it easier for her to get away.

She waved goodbye and began heading home. As she walked, she found that she missed Walter just a _tiny _little bit.

She turned back to watch Gilbert walking away with her son- until finally, she yelled out, "Gilbert, _wait!"_

Running back to them, she said- almost awkwardly- "Um…I thought maybe I would come see Walter build his tower," she said. "And then go home."

Gilbert nodded, pulling her close, and set Walter down so he could walk between them, hand in hand.

* * *

Things were not suddenly fixed simply because Anne missed him a little bit.

Anne watched Walter and Gilbert play with the blocks, she did not get down on the floor and play with her son.

But when Walter proudly showed off his creation to his mama, her smile and her hug were genuine.

Gilbert wanted to ask if Anne would like to stay and have dinner with them, but Anne seemed ready to go after the play time with the blocks, so Gilbert hugged her goodbye and thanked her for coming.

He said nothing about Walter wanting her to stay. He just told her they'd look forward to seeing her that night.

When Gilbert brought Walter back to Green Gables, Anne seemed different somehow than she had before.

Gilbert noticed the change and said, "Are you feeling better? You look brighter."

Anne nodded. "I think so."

Gilbert said, "I'm sorry he fell asleep on the way here. Should we wake him? You won't be able to give him his bath."

Anne shook her head. "I don't want to wake him. He'll just cry and then maybe he won't go back to sleep. He can do without it tonight, I can give him a bath in the morning instead."

Gilbert hesitated. "Should I come a little later, then, to get him? So you have time to do that?"

Anne bit her lip. "I don't think you have to take him away anymore…he's all right."

Gilbert's only response was to hold her close.

"Gilbert?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I don't know if he'll remember these four days he was away from home."

"He's little, it's hard to say."

"Well, if he _does _remember…I don't want him to know that you took him away because I hated him."

"Of course I won't tell him that."

"Thank you," Anne said, leaning into him.

"Besides, I knew you never really hated him," Gilbert said. "You just needed some time. And that's okay."

"No, it's not. What kind of mother thinks she hates her baby?" Anne whispered.

Gilbert said quietly, "One who's been through an awful time and is just doing the best she can to survive."

He took a breath. "I know that sometimes there are things about Walter that take you right back to Billy, and when that happens, maybe it's _better_ for other people to step in and take him. Just to give you more support."

She shook her head, eyes closed, trying to stop the tears that were suddenly coming.

He stroked her fiery hair. "If you have some time apart, you won't have to try to manage those feelings with him right beside you."

"I'm a horrible mother," she said, emotional. "It's so unfair to him that I can't separate him from Billy."

"Whenever you feel that way, Anne, let me take him. And all you have to do is be nice to him for the brief time you see him. ...And after a little while- like today- it'll get _better- _you'll _feel _better, and he'll come back to you. ...He'll just think he went away on a fun little trip. We'll make it work."

"I feel awful for hating him, Gilbert. But sometimes I can't do anything about the feelings that pour in and _drown _me."

Gilbert's hand found it's way to her cheek. "Let me tell you something the reverend told me. It's about love."

"What?" Anne asked, shaking her head slightly, her voice still depressed tone.

"He said love isn't a noun, it's a verb."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anne asked softly.

"It means you should stop worrying about your feelings, and instead think about how you treat him. If you can _treat _Walter with love- if you can hold his hand, and you can sing to him and tell him stories, you listen to all his silly chatter and you play with him and give him goodnight kisses- he'll feel that you love him, Anne, because of what you're _doing_."

And Gilbert thought about how _he'd_ have to remember the same thing. _Telling _Anne his feelings- _that he loved her_\- was all well and good, but he needed to step in and help her more in a _practical _way- to use his actions to love her, instead of just his feelings.

But it would be a lot easier for him to support her that way if he wasn't so far from Avonlea.

He could not go back to Redmond. He knew that now. Anne needed him to be a partner in raising her son, and Walter needed a father.

Fortunately, he had already put a plan into action.


	182. Anger

Marilla said the next afternoon, "I'm glad you're allowing Walter back into your life."

Anne looked up at her. She knew Marilla had not really approved of her casting Walter out of their home for four days.

"Are you feeling better about him now?"

Anne nodded. She couldn't say anything.

"I hope this doesn't happen again."

Anne shrugged.

Marilla said, gentler this time- realizing she'd never get through to Anne if she didn't appear more understanding- "I know you're having a hard time with your feelings toward Billy-"

Anne looked up, visibly bristling at the name.

"And of _course _you are," Marilla continued, "But you mustn't take it out on poor Walter."

"I haven't done anything to him," Anne said, offended. "I wouldn't hurt him."

"No, I know you wouldn't hurt him," Marilla agreed. "But I think you're letting your feelings toward Billy shape your opinion of Walter."

"What do you mean?" Anne asked, preparing to be offended.

Marilla was quiet. "Anne, you must _separate_ Walter from Billy in your mind_\- _Walter hasn't done anything wrong."

"I never said he did."

"You don't seem to like him very much these days..."

"Well, who _would _like him acting that way?" Anne asked incredulously. "Anyway I like him just fine," she lied.

"I hope so, because the only thing he knows is you're his mother- he doesn't know what happened to you, or how he arrived."

"I _know _that."

"And if you think about it, really, Walter's been hurt by Billy, too."

"_He wouldn't be alive without him_," Anne pointed out.

"Yes, that's true," Marilla admitted. "But the way I see it, you and Walter are _both _survivors of Billy's crime."

She paused.

"Do you love Walter, Anne?" Marilla asked gently.

"Sure," Anne said. She wasn't very convincing.

Marilla was quiet a moment, then she said, "You know...you don't talk about Billy."

Anne was startled. Why _would _she? She didn't want to see him, hear of him, or think about him. Why on earth would she want to _talk _about him?

"Perhaps if you did, it would help? You could get your feelings out- get your _anger _out! ...You must have a lot of anger all stored up, Anne, with no place to _put _it."

Anne sighed. "I don't need to talk about my _anger_."

"But focusing your anger _where it belongs_ might keep you from directing it at _Walter_."

Anne sat up straighter. "You want me to sit here and talk about _Billy?_ What am I supposed to _talk _about? How because of _his _ugly face, _my _baby isn't even _cute?! _How _he_ can do anything he wants_\- _who knows, he might even have decided to try college, he might even be earning some kind of a degree right this very minute!- while I couldn't go _at all?_ No, he probably isn't, because he's too dumb! And he gave me a baby who's going to be just as dumb as he is!"

"Anne, you are his mother, and you are kind, and gentle-"

"And I'm wrestling against his very _nature_," Anne interrupted harshly.

"It comes down to one thing."

"What?" Anne asked, her eyes suddenly rimmed with tears.

"You have to decide if you can love Walter more than you hate Billy."

Anne let out a shuddered breath. "You know what? I want to know what he's doing _right now. _I want to know what he plans to do with _his life." _Her last words were spit out.

"Do you really?"

Anne hadn't even realized what she was saying. She shook herself. "No, no, I don't. I don't know why I said that."

"It's all right to wonder. After all, it seems his life has gone on in its merry course while yours has been disrupted. ...You might have something to say about that."

Anne didn't answer.

"You might find it helpful to tell him you're angry."

Anne just breathed. "To confront him?"

Marilla did not want Anne in any danger. "I don't mean _directly_. But if you want to say something, I think you have a right to say it."


	183. Gilbert's Plan

Miss Smith would not be staying in Avonlea.

While the school board had chosen not to fire her, they let her know they'd decided not to renew her contract for the following year. They needed a teacher who would arrive on time, teach well, and be committed to student progress.

Miss Smith, who had not really wanted to teach anyway, went back home, intending to marry, and a notice went out for a new applicant.

When Gilbert heard about this, he devised a new plan for his life.

He applied for the position of teacher at Avonlea school, and two weeks later, he was interviewed by the school board.

He did not tell anyone, in case he wasn't chosen.

* * *

When Gilbert was offered a contract for the year, the first thing he did was contact Redmond and revise his schedule.

He brought his teaching contract to Matthew and Marilla, before he even showed it to Anne.

"Why, Gilbert- what about Redmond? A teacher instead of a doctor?" Marilla was pleased but confused.

"I'll still be a doctor," he explained. "I haven't given up Redmond. I'll finish my courses by correspondence, only traveling there to sit for exams."

"Can you really do everything by correspondence?" she asked, still a bit stunned.

"Well- no," Gilbert admitted. "Not everything. But I looked into it; they offer accelerated courses in the summers."

"Oh."

"So I'll teach school all year and then during the summers I'll go up to Redmond for three weeks to take advantage of the courses I couldn't do by correspondence."

"You've...certainly thought this through, haven't you?" she asked faintly, looking over the contract.

"I can stay here in town and keep my farm," he went on. "I'll need to keep farmhands on- I'm not ambitious enough to think I can teach school _and _manage the farm on my own- but I've had them here since I went to Queens, already."

"Yes, that's true…" Marilla agreed. "But three years of Redmond work...are you sure they still count you the same as those who were there in person- that going by correspondence won't put you at a disadvantage when you apply for medical school?"

Gilbert shook his head.

"And what about...what _about _medical school- you can't do _that _by correspondence…"

Gilbert agreed. "When I'm finished with my Redmond courses, then I _will _have to leave to go on to medical school. ...But after medical school, we'd come straight back to Avonlea."

_We'd come straight back to Avonlea…_

"_We…_" Marilla noticed he'd used. Suddenly emotion came over her and she could not speak.

Gilbert realized, too, that he had said _we_. "I don't mean to sound presumptuous," he said gently. "I just thought...now that I can be in college without even leaving _town_...and I have a _job_, now…"

Marilla, reluctantly, said: "You'll be very busy, you know. Teaching school during the day...coming home to plan your lessons and mark papers...and doing all your own college coursework."

"But my house is so near Green Gables." His voice was full of fragile hope. "Anne could always come over here to you, any time she felt like it..._she won't have to be lonely_."

"That _was _always my concern," Marilla admitted. "If she moved _away_ with you when you went to Redmond...she'd be lonely. ...I suppose...if you stay here, I wouldn't have to worry about that part of things."

There was a silence.

"Well, I don't think Anne would like the three of us sitting around discussing her future without her," Marilla finally said. "But I _am _glad you came to _us _first."

"I care about you both," Gilbert said plainly. "I don't want you to feel I'm going behind your back. Or that I've acted dishonorably."

_Dishonorably_, Marilla thought, amused. As if Gilbert Blythe _could_.

"If I can marry Anne," Gilbert went on, "I _know _we'd be happy. But...I want _you _to be happy, too. So I won't ask her until you think it's the right _time_."

"But when you tell Anne about your new job, and about taking courses by correspondence," Marilla pointed out, "She'll see no reason you can't rush right into marriage now."

Gilbert was disappointed. He had hoped that was _exactly _what would happen- that his news would allow them to get married _now_.

But he swallowed and said, "I can tell her I'm not ready yet...if that's what you think I should do."

"She's only eighteen," Marilla said slowly.

Matthew finally spoke up. "Marilla."

Marilla looked over at him.

"We got no cause to keep them apart."

"It isn't about keeping them _apart_," Marilla protested. "Gilbert, I am _glad _she has you- and that you have her. I _want _the two of you together! It's just that...if you were both off at college you'd be waiting till you finished, you'd be _older_ and more_-_"

"But that's not how it happened," Matthew cut in softly.

"I know that…"

"Five years ago," Matthew began, "We gave Anne a _family_. Now it's time for us to give her a new one." Already seeing the conflict in his sister's mind, he went on, "I heard a sayin' once- when a daughter gets married, you're not losing a daughter, you're gaining a son."

Marilla just stared at him.

"Tell the boy he can marry her, Marilla."


	184. Rejoicing

Gilbert went home whistling a cheerful melody to himself.

As he walked, the skies opened up and hosts of angels rained down, carrying trumpets and singing gloriously of the mark of the coming millennium, when the now dead would awaken and be lifted right up into the heavens to new life, and Christ would come to earth to bring peace for a thousand years and all would be right with the world. The birds were happier, the grass was greener, the sky above him flamed out with color and he felt new life filling his lungs as he was lifted up to join the angels in their rejoicing.

Well, it hadn't happened exactly like that.

But Matthew and Marilla had told him he could marry their daughter, and that was the same thing.


	185. Honesty

Thank you oz diva for bouncing ideas back and forth with me all night and contributing valuable pieces, the story has her lovely touch yet again.

* * *

"…I don't know Belle, I mean I love him, I guess, but…"

Berty the cart horse in trail, Matthew trod up to the back door of the barn.

Out in the field all that could be heard was the skylarks and the snuffly breaths of the horse as it cooled down.

But now that he was in the gloomy interior of the barn Anne's voice could be heard quite clearly. It was a trick of the place that one could hear what was going on in the stalls, a feature Matthew had found quite handy at odd moments over the years.

"He reminds me so much of Billy. First it was his _face_. And then it was his hair. And now he's acting so _mean_, you know? And I _worry…_"

Matthew stopped to listen harder.

He and Marilla had been concerned when Gilbert took Walter off to his place for a few days. Gilbert had said it "just seemed like a lot for her right now".

They had chatted about it and asked Anne to explain her reasons, but essentially it remained a mystery.

Despite being out in the barn most of the day, Matthew had missed the little chap when he came in for lunch and afternoon tea. It seemed unnaturally quiet about the place, which was odd really when he stopped to think about it. It had been quiet at Green Gables for so many years, but he was no longer used to it.

"I can't believe I _said _it...that I _hated _my own baby. I _think _Walter was asleep, but what if he _heard _me say I hate him?"

Matthew's mouth was open in surprise. He knew Anne's road wasn't easy- but he'd never heard her say she _hated _Walter. He wondered how long she'd felt that way- had she _always _hated him, and had just been successful in hiding it up till now?

The horse made some sort of comforting noise and Anne took a shuddery breath.

"I've got to do a better job of hiding my feelings!" But then her voice broke. "But I can't always hold everything together, it's just too much sometimes! I hate that this _happened _to me...sometimes I just feel like life's been so unfair."

She wiped her tears on her hand and leaned against the horse's side.

"When I was pregnant, I thought- here's this baby, who's just trying to...trying to...be a person. And I'm acting like his life is wrong, somehow. And then I felt even worse, because _he _doesn't know what happened to me- he has _no idea_ that his whole life was an interruption. _He loves me so much, _Belle, he doesn't deserve to be _hated_..."

Her voice took on a stronger tone. "I can't let _Walter _feel unloved because of something that happened before he was born...it would be so awful to find out your mother hates you; I've _got_ to do a better job _hiding _it!"

She just breathed a moment.

"I thought I'd been doing decently enough, you know, but now that he's started to act this way, it's dredged everything back up for me...will it _always _be this way- where I think things are better and then suddenly they're not? _I can't tell Matthew and Marilla I hate him and I need a break. What'll Marilla think of me then? _Oh, Belle, I _wish _you could talk back…"

Anne was continuing to talk to the horse, but Mathew backed out of the barn. Tying the horse up, he went to talk to Marilla.

* * *

"Matthew, what are you doing in here, I'm just mopping the floor," Marilla said in an annoyed tone.

"Never mind about that, I need to talk to you. It's about Anne."

Marilla stopped, moving a stray hair from her eyes as she straightened up.

"Anne's out in the barn talking to Belle."

Marilla smiled faintly; she had not known Anne still talked to the horse the way she did as a little girl.

"The thing is, I overheard her, and she said some upsetting things. Or, things that…"

"Sit down, Matthew. What is it?"

Matthew held his hat in his hands. "She said she hated him."

"Who? Not Gilbert," Marilla asked with a frown.

"Walter."

"Was she angry about something? He didn't act up today, at least."

"Didn't seem to be tied to any one incident. Seemed to be sort of an overall appraisal."

Marilla looked hurt.

"Seems she's been conflicted about hating him a while. She told Gilbert- _that's _why he took Walter away for four days."

"_That's_ why?" Marilla was upset. "We knew there was some sort of problem of course but she didn't say anything to _us _about _hating_ him!"

Anne came into the kitchen, hoping she didn't look as if she'd been crying. She caught the tail end of that conversation, and looked accusingly at both of them.

Upset, she turned, hurriedly going back outside.

Marilla stared after her, but then shook her head in dismay. "I _know _she struggles, but my goodness, what an awful thing to say! ...I can't have her being so unkind to poor Walter, it isn't _his _fault. She needs to turn that around, the sooner the better."

Matthew paused. "But what if she can't?"

Marilla looked at him, startled.

Matthew said again, "What if she can't stop those feelings?"

Marilla was flustered. "She must try."

"How d'you know she ain't trying, Marilla? Maybe she is, hard as she can. ...If she can't stop her feelings, and _you've _told her not to _have _them, then what choice does she have but to hide them from us?"

Marilla had nothing to say to that.

Matthew, feeling a need to talk, continued. "She told Gilbert she hated Walter- she didn't tell _you and I_. Once they marry, who will she tell then?"

"What do you mean, who will she _tell?"_

Matthew was patient. "Gilbert took Walter away- but that won't help her once they're married 'cause they'll _all _be in the same house together. So where can Walter _go?"_

"If she truly can't stand Walter, then he can come home to _us!"_ was Marilla's sharp reply.

She felt put out with Anne. How could anyone not love Walter? Yes, he was acting difficult at the moment, but still, she loved him more than life itself and she could not understand anyone saying they hated the darling.

Matthew shook his head. "You made her feel badly for sending him away. So how _could _she send him to us?"

* * *

"Anne," Marilla said, disturbing Anne's solitude. She was back with Belle, leaning against the horse, braiding her mane and humming softly.

Anne turned to her, only to avoid being impertinent; she'd rather ignore Marilla completely right now.

But Marilla said something then that got Anne's attention.

"It-ah- it occurred to me that I often tell you how you ought to feel about Walter."

"It doesn't _matter _how I feel," Anne said shakily.

"I admit I've been very concerned about poor Walter," Marilla continued. "I don't want him to feel unloved. ...But I never meant for that to be at the expense of _you_."

Anne wiped her eyes.

"I've made you feel like you're a bad mother, haven't I? Berating you for your feelings. ...What did _Gilbert_ say when you told _him _you hated Walter?"

Anne shrugged. "He didn't say anything much, he just offered to take him away for a few days so I could have a break."

Marilla took a breath. "Well, I can see why you told him, instead of me. From me, you'd have been scolded for saying such a thing."

She shook her head at herself. She was absolutely distraught at knowing Anne had said she hated her poor baby...but she now realized that if she didn't accept Anne's feelings as they were, she would only push her further away, and there would be a wedge driven between them.

She looked to Anne. "When you and Gilbert marry…"

Anne was watching her.

"_Someday_," she quickly added- no one had told Anne, yet, what they'd discussed without her earlier that day- "And you believe it would give you peace of mind to have some time without Walter, I want you to feel you can send him over to us."

Anne looked as though she was walking on shaky ground.

"I _mean_ that, Anne. You can send him to us, _no questions asked."_


	186. Good

Anne had promised to take Walter to play at the house of one of her grown up friends for the afternoon.

She had been avoiding _everyone- _not even taking Walter to _church, _much to Marilla's chagrin_\- _because she was so embarrassed by how he had been acting. But she had finally agreed to an outing because Marilla pointed out that if Walter stopped socializing, he'd be even less likely to learn how to act around people.

So Anne reluctantly took him to Rose Connor's house to play with Dennis. It wasn't long before there was a tantrum- only it wasn't from Walter, it was from Dennis.

Dennis shoved Walter in the chest. Rose rushed to pull Dennis away from the toy he was grabbing right out of Walter's hands, and she told him that if he couldn't behave himself then he couldn't play with Walter at all.

Dennis stomped and screamed because he had wanted the _red_ train engine to drive through the blocks but he had the _blue_ caboose instead, and the whole world would come to an end if he couldn't snatch the red engine away from Walter.

Walter did not react when the toy was pulled from his hands, but he looked to Rose for what to do. Rose pulled Dennis away from him, saying, "You go ahead and play, Walter. You haven't done anything wrong. Dennis needs to remember his manners before he can play with you again."

But Dennis did not remember his manners, and continued throwing a fit, his face screwed up in anger, until finally Rose threatened to spank him if he wouldn't stop this at once. He did stop, but then sat pouting because Rose had told him he had to apologize to Walter and he did not want to.

At long last he told Walter he was sorry, and the two went back to playing, the incident forgotten.

Anne was quiet on the walk home.

Rose's husband Charley was one of the kindest, gentlest men she knew. She couldn't imagine a better husband- except for Gilbert, of course.

Yet there was Charley's _son_, throwing and hitting and being selfish in general. And Anne with all her child care experience knew that children _do_ have little temper tantrums, but she'd been so focused on Walter being like his father that she could not see anything beyond that. But now...maybe it was true, what everyone said- maybe it _was_ just a phase Walter was going through like _any_ other little child. After all, if Dennis could act that way _despite _having _such a lovely father... _

Walter reached for her hand, wanting to be closer to her.

Anne let him take her hand absentmindedly.

They strolled along.

"I was good, mama," Walter said suddenly, proud of himself. "I wasn't bad like Dennis."

Anne didn't answer.

"I was _good_, mama," he repeated, louder this time, pulling on her hand.

Anne stopped. She looked down at him as if considering him for the first time, and impulsively picked him up.

"You're right," she whispered to him. "You _are _good."

* * *

Things were easier in their home that evening.

After supper, Anne took Walter outside to catch lightning bugs. Marilla and Matthew sat on the back porch, amused at the sight. Anne was running around like a little girl again, and Walter was doing his best to imitate his mama.

Once it was too dark to see any longer, they went into the house, the jam jar held tight in Walter's little hands.

Marilla had gotten the tub ready for Walter to have a bath when he came in from playing outside. Anne set the jam jar in the window sill so that his bath could be lit by the flickering lights while he washed, though he was more interested in making soap bubbles than in washing.

Once he was scrubbed clean, Anne wrapped him in his terrycloth towel and scooped him up, heading for the stairs.

"Mama, I want my _bugs_," Walter said, reaching his arms out.

Anne went back, to retrieve the jar from the window sill. She tried not to drop it on the way up the stairs, thinking she really ought to have brought Walter's pajamas downstairs instead of carrying him upstairs wrapped in his bath towel.

Once in their bedroom, she set the jar in the open window again, and then she pulled his nightie over his head and got his underwear on him.

"I don't need no diapers now," Walter said proudly. "I no baby."

"No, you're not," Anne said, very happy not to need diapers any longer.

She rubbed his hair dry with the towel, thinking for the first time that perhaps his wavy blonde hair was not _so _terrible after all- she decided she could do better to look past it, it wasn't his fault it grew out of his head that way.

And then she turned out her lamp, so that the whole room was dark but for the jar of flickering lightning bugs.

"Aren't they pretty?" Anne whispered to him, holding him in the dark.

Walter did not answer, but leaned his head on her shoulder.

"Mama," he said a moment later.

"What is it?"

"I love you," he said. Then he grinned. "You're a _nice _mama."

Anne felt terribly guilty for him thinking she was _nice _when she'd been so mean to him, but she tried to let that guilt wash away- he did not know she had struggled so much, and he loved her despite her shortcomings.

"You're a good baby," she murmured, holding him closer.

Walter was indignant. "I _not _a baby!"

Anne laughed a little. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said with repentance. "You're a big boy, it must have slipped my mind."

"When is Gil-ber going to come back?" Walter asked, moving on.

"Tomorrow," Anne said with a sigh. She felt so _content_, now: The summer was lovely, Walter was happy, Gilbert was with them every single day. She did not want to think about Redmond and the end of the summer.

"I want Gil-ber _all _the time," Walter said. "He can come live here with us. He don't need his house."

"He _doesn't_ need his house, Walter, not he _don't_ need his house," Anne chided gently.

"That's what I said, he don't need it," Walter said, missing the point completely.

"I like going to Gil-ber's, but I miss you when I go'd," he told her. "Next time _you _come _too_. Then we be _together_."

This time Anne did not bother to correct his grammar, laughing a little bit at how he had said _go'd _instead of _went_. She smoothed his hair back. "Let's go to sleep now. Would you like to stay with mama?" she asked him.

He nodded happily.

She started to get in bed, but then she remembered the lightning bugs.

"Come here," she said, setting him down and walking with him to the window.

She opened the jar.

"They get away!" Walter began to scream, his hands coming down hard over her arms, trying to stop her.

"No," she said gently, pulling out of his angry grasp. "We have to let them _go_. They want to fly now, and live."

One lightning bug flew off, and then another, and another. The last stragglers were helped along by Anne, as she dipped her finger into the jar to take them, one by one into her hand, and then gently blew to encourage them to fly.

"They were pretty in the jar in the window," she told him. "But look how pretty they are when they're flying away."

They watched until they could no longer tell which lightning bugs were "theirs" and which were the ones who had never been caught.

"Come now, let's go to bed," Anne said.

She let Walter in her bed with her- something she ordinarily never did- and though the night was warm, she found she didn't _mind _him laying on top of her, his little arms wrapped tightly around his mama's neck, and his hair in her face.

She decided she would not waste precious time worrying over how he'd turn out.

This resolution would not always last- as time went on, new issues would appear and old worries would surface, and she might feel right back to where she'd started.

But in the moment- _this _moment, _this _night- she would breathe a sigh and just enjoy him being little, because he wouldn't be little for long.


	187. Plans for a Picnic

Anne announced in the morning, "Gilbert was by early, when you were out in the barn, Matthew. He said he wanted to have a picnic this afternoon."

"Oh?" Marilla asked, her voice unnaturally high. "How nice. Why don't you leave Walter home; that way you and Gilbert can talk just between yourselves."

"No," Anne spoke up. "He said he wanted to have a picnic for _all of us_\- you and Matthew, too."

"That's mighty kind of him," Matthew said, glancing meaningfully at Marilla.

Marilla hid a pleased smile, her cheeks flushed. "That _is _nice of him," she agreed. "To include _us _in your special moment."

"Well it's _just _a picnic," Anne said with a frown. "I mean it's nice and all."

"Yes, of course, it's just a picnic," Marilla agreed quickly.

She knew what Matthew was thinking- _this is it! _

But they did not know for _sure- _they couldn't know for _sure- _and they mustn't act as if they _suspected _anything.

The morning passed uneventfully for the rest of the family, but Marilla was on pins and needles.

For all her hesitation before, Marilla felt giddy as a schoolgirl now. She had to stop herself from spilling the beans several times.

_This is big news for Anne- that they can finally go ahead and marry, _she told herself. _But, _she reminded herself sternly- _this is **Gilbert's** news, it isn't **our** news. And we'll spoil it for him if we tell Anne before he does!_

She wondered how Gilbert would _ask_ her- or even, _if _he would ask her. It wasn't so much of a _question_, really. Gilbert had said he asked her long ago- at this point they were just waiting for the time Matthew and Marilla would allow it.

So the news that they _would _allow it, _finally_, was all that really needed to be said. That news would make Anne so happy; she'd wanted this for so long.

But Marilla _hoped_ he'd ask again. She wanted Anne to have that beautiful moment of proposal.

After all, a girl dreamed of that sort of thing. She had, long ago, herself.


	188. Panic

When Gilbert saw that Avonlea needed a new teacher, he knew his time so far away, in Kingsport, had come to an end. He worked out his plan of teaching school while doing courses by correspondence, and hoped the school board would hire him.

It hadn't been hard to get the job.

There had only been a handful of applicants, and while they were equally suited to the position, the school board liked the idea of having one of their own townsfolk do it, especially liking that their chosen applicant would not even need to relocate for the job. Gilbert was also an easy choice because they had firsthand knowledge of his work ethic and integrity. They warned him, though, that a first teaching position was always hard, especially when it involved having students who used to be your younger schoolmates.

The next part of the plan, once the contract was signed, was to bring it to Matthew and Marilla...he'd have to "propose" to them first, before he could get to Anne.

But they had said yes to his proposal. They saw how he was figuring everything out for Anne- setting up a good situation for her- and most importantly, that he wouldn't be dragging her away to Kingsport where she'd be all alone.

At long last they'd agreed _now could be the time._

The last part of the plan was to talk to Anne herself. That part, he thought with a smile, was the easiest part.

He decided to have a picnic for her and set to work making food for it, but when he realized he could only make simple food, he changed his mind and went into town looking for something nicer.

He came home with a cake. He didn't mind making sandwiches and cutting up fruit for a fruit salad now, and bringing crackers and cheese, because he had the cake to go with it, and the cake helped to dress up the picnic.

He packed everything into baskets- except the cake, which he found a pan for. He covered the pan with the top of a biscuit warmer. He remembered when Anne brought her cake to the fair and, looking at his contraption, realized this wasn't at all how a cake was meant to be packed. He was a bit amused, thinking of how little he knew about managing a home, and was glad Anne knew better; she'd bring some much-needed civilization into his house.

He hoped they'd all come.

* * *

"You ought to dress up," Marilla said, looking at the clock.

"Why?" Anne asked, catching Walter up in a hug.

"Well…" Marilla didn't want to spoil anything. She put on an exasperated face. "Anne, you forgot about the church event today, didn't you? My goodness, I told you about it a week ago. Do I have to stick notes on your forehead for you to remember?"

Anne made a face. "What's the even-"

"Go on up and get changed. _Right now,_ or we'll be late! Take Walter with you, he ought to look nice, too."

"But what about the picnic?" Anne asked, already moving toward the stairs.

"We'll still have time for the picnic. Now scoot."

* * *

Marilla was glad she had made Anne dress up.

Anne looked so grown up and stylish in her royal blue dress that it made Marilla's heart catch in her throat to see her- ordinarily she still viewed her Anne as that same scrawny child who had arrived at her door four years ago- her large eyes and mouth took up her whole face but for the freckles, and those gangly arms and legs! But when Anne put on this dress, Marilla's image disappeared and all she could see was a lovely young woman, no longer a little girl. How beautiful she's grown up to be, she thought.

But all she said was, "You look suitable, now let's go now."

Marilla took Walter's hand and helped him up into the buggy. Anne had dressed him in his little blue and white sailor suit, something Marilla had sewn for him after Anne saw it in a magazine as a popular style for boys.

No one said one word on the way, until Anne asked, "What is the church event, anyway?"

"It's a quilting bee," Marilla said at the same moment Matthew said, "It's a bake sale."

"It's a quilting bee followed by a bake sale," Marilla said calmly.

"_All that? _We won't have _time _for a picnic," Anne said despairingly. "I'm surprised you're going, Matthew. What are you going to do during the quilting bee part?"

Fortunately Anne did not stop talking long enough for him to answer that question, and continued, "But it can't possibly be over before lunch. Can't you drop me off at Gilbert's before you go?"

"Well- yes, we'll swing round Gilbert's," Matthew answered.

They hoped Anne wouldn't ask any more questions. But she didn't have a chance to, because Walter began to talk and distracted them all for the rest of the ride.

* * *

"Gilbert, you look so _nice_," Anne said with a smile, reaching out for his hand once they arrived at his house.

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, something he felt he was allowed to do in front of the Cuthberts now that they were as good as engaged.

"Why are you so dressed up?" Anne asked.

Gilbert looked down at his suit.

"You must be going to the church event after the picnic, too," Marilla said.

"Oh- yes," he said quickly. "Yes, I am."

He let them in. "I've got everything packed up," he said. "So we can go on out."

Marilla smiled inwardly, hearing nervousness in his voice. "I'll help get all these things out," she said. "Oh, Gilbert, how lovely- did you make that cake yourself?"

"Uh- not quite," Gilbert said with a smile, ruffling his hair. "But I _did _put it in the pan."

They laughed.

Gilbert put the food baskets down on the soft blue blanket, laying out plates, cups, napkins, and silverwear, and then unwrapping the sandwiches and salads. He was practically dropping things and Marilla finally reached out and, putting her hand on his, made him pause. He looked up at her and took a steadying breath.

"Well, that's everything, then," he said after a moment, letting a breath out.

He suddenly felt his pockets and then his suit jacket. "Uh- I forgot something- sorry- I'll be right back."

"What is it?" Anne asked, standing up. "I'll help you." She wouldn't mind the extra moments alone with Gilbert, since Matthew and Marilla would be sharing the picnic with them.

"No!" he said quickly. "No, I'll just be a second. Stay here. Go ahead and eat."

"I wanna go too," Walter started running to follow after him.

"Walter, sit down," Anne told him.

"No, Walter could come with me," Gilbert said letting out a nervous breath. The little boy tagging along would be a welcome distraction. He'd have some company to settle his rattled nerves.

Walter ran to catch up.

Gilbert rushed into the house, frantic. "Walter, I forgot the ring."

Walter did not know what that was about, but watched Gilbert rush to his father's room and search through his father's bedside table and then his dresser.

When he still didn't find it, he went through the wardrobe.

He stopped, breathing hard. "How did I forget this? I went into town to buy a cake, for goodness sake, the ring is the most important part!"

He was panicking.

He remembered that he had given the ring to Anne nearly four years before, to borrow because she'd been so embarrassed about being pregnant without a ring on her finger. But he'd gotten it back- what did he do with it?

He started looking through the desk out in the parlor, then checked the sofa cushions, not knowing what else to do.

"The ring, Walter, the ring…" Gilbert said absently, as he searched.

"I don't hear nothing," Walter said. "I don't hear the ring."

"No," Gilbert said with a bit of a laugh. "It isn't a ring you hear, like a bell. It's a ring like you wear on your finger."

Walter looked down at his own little fingers.

"Don't you remember Mama wearing it when you came home on the train-" Gilbert stopped, shaking his head at himself. Did he really expect Walter to remember Anne wearing his borrowed ring at the New Brunswick hospital where he had been _born?_

"Never mind," he told him, not looking at the boy but continuing to search. "I'll look, you just stay right here with me while I look."

"I wanna look, _too_," Walter demanded.

"Well, all right, go ahead and look."

"What does it look like?" was Walter's sensible question.

"It looks like...like a _ring_," Gilbert said. He moved a quilt off a trunk and looked under it.

Then he looked back at Walter. "You don't know what a ring _looks _like, do you? Matthew and Marilla don't wear them and neither does your mama. At least she doesn't _yet…_"

He took Walter upstairs with him to continue the search.

As he moved his desk out of the way- he saw it.

The gold band was between the cracks in the floorboards, the lamp light made it glitter. It was surrounded by a scattering of Sunday School pins.

"How did you get _there?"_ Gilbert asked the ring under his breath.

He realized what had likely happened- he had put the ring into the little box he kept all his Sunday School pins in; cleary, at some point, it had spilled and he must never have noticed. It struck him as odd that he hadn't cared enough about the pins to _notice _they'd been lost, until he remembered that the pins no longer mattered to him. He recalled when they were handed out- how upset Anne had been that she hadn't gotten one. But how _could _she have tried; she'd had to drop out of Sunday School because Billy was there. Somehow, his pins hadn't seemed important anymore once Anne couldn't get one.

No matter, he had the ring. He scooped his ten Sunday School pins up from the floor and dumped them into a drawer.

"What's those," Walter said, liking the way the pins looked and wanting to play with them.

"They're from Sunday School. You'll get them too- if you try," Gilbert said absently. "All right, we have the ring!" He breathed a sigh of relief.

He held it down so Walter could see what it was they had been looking for.

"It's tiny," Walter said with dismay, looking down at the ring in Walter's palm. "Give Mama _this _instead-" he grabbed the nearby bedpost. "This a _big _present!"

"She can't wear that on her finger."

He slipped the ring into his jacket pocket, being sure it was all the way down into the pocket and wouldn't fall out.

"Come on," he said, tussling Walter's hair. "Now we can go back."

"I tell Mama you found her present," Walter said happily, bouncing down the stairs and to the front door.

"_No_," Gilbert said quickly, grabbing his hand to prevent him from running away. He slowed down, and whispered, "The ring is a surprise present. Don't tell Mama yet. Keep it a _surprise_."

"Okay," Walter said agreeably. "But I like the bed better, that makes a better present 'cuz it's _big_."

Gilbert laughed as he opened the front door. While Anne would ideally have the bed, it would look a little shocking to offer a _bed _to her as an engagement gift. No, the ring would suffice. "It's little, I know, but it means something _big_."

"What's it mean?" Walter asked absently, waving at Marilla, Matthew, and Anne in the distance.

Gilbert got down low to tell him. "It means we get to stay together _all the time."_

"No school?" Walter asked, as if afraid to hope.

"No, I'm not going back there," Gilbert said. "I can do school at home. _And_ if Mama wants to keep my ring, guess what else happens?"

"What?"

"You and Mama can come live here at _my _house with me."

Then he said quickly, "And we would _still _go see Grandma and Grandpa all the time. You'll have _everybody_."

"I like you _here_," Walter said happily. "_No_ school." He did not understand the moving back and forth, his main focus was that Gilbert wasn't going anywhere.


	189. The Proposal

Once back at the picnic, Marilla asked, a touch amused, "Everything all right, Gilbert?"

He nodded, getting his breath. "Just...thought I left the oven on, is all."

Anne frowned. There was nothing in the picnic that would have used the oven; they were having sandwiches, salad, and cake. "Took an awfully long time to turn it off," she said. "Did you make this lemonade? It's delicious!"

Matthew said, "Glad you're back."

Marilla wondered if Gilbert wanted them to eat first and he'd pop the question after lunch was over, or if he was going to ask now and they'd eat in celebration afterward.

Gilbert didn't seem to know which way he wanted it to go, either.

Marilla commented, "This is such a pretty place, isn't it? I love the pond."

Walter, also looking at the pond and seeing that ducks were coming into view, skipped closer to look at them. "Look, Mama, there's _babies_," he called back.

"What a nice surprise," Anne said to him. "I haven't seen any new ones yet."

"Good, then we have _two _surprises," Walter said happily, coming back over to join them.

"Walter, hush," Marilla said quietly.

Anne looked back and forth from Walter to Marilla.

"Gil-ber, give Mama the surprise now," Walter pressed.

"_Walter_," Marilla said a tad harsher.

"What surprise?" Anne asked.

Walter could not wait any longer and burst out, "Gil-ber not gonna go away no more. Now we can stay together all the time."

Gilbert let out a sigh. "He's talking about school. I got the Avonlea school, Anne. I interviewed and they offered me the position a couple of weeks ago...I'll be teaching here."

"But how..."

"I've decided to do my Redmond courses by correspondence," Gilbert said slowly. Should he ask right now? "...So that I can stay here with you."

Anne couldn't have been more surprised. "Oh, Gilbert, that's wonderful! You don't know _how_ I've been dreading you going back! I didn't want to _say _it because I knew you'd just feel bad that _I _felt bad, and it wouldn't do us any _good _to be sad about it, even together, but- oh, I'm so _glad!"_

That alone would have been enough to make Anne's day, but Walter was not satisfied.

"Gil-ber give the _present_," he insisted.

"I think you and I ought to take a little walk," Marilla said, reaching out for Walter's hand. The little boy could _not _keep his mouth shut, and she wasn't going to let him spoil Gilbert's proposal.

"No, it's all right, I…" Gilbert laughed. He didn't want Marilla or Walter to miss the big moment. "You know what? Let's _all _walk," he suddenly said. "Let's go see the ducklings, Walter."

Gilbert really just needed a reason for Anne to get up. How could he get down on one knee and pop the question, if she wasn't standing up?

They walked around the perimeter of the pond, Gilbert feeling his jacket pocket where the ring was waiting.

He _wanted _to ask, but somehow it didn't seem...special enough now. Ducklings, reeds, a frog or two...it was a very pretty day, full of sunshine, the sky a clear robin's egg blue, but still...this was his simple country home, and he _wanted _Anne to be somewhere _breathtaking- _some place that _matched _her beauty, like a starlit balcony maybe.

But he didn't have a starlit balcony.

"Anne," he said slowly as they walked. "You know, you mean a lot to me."

_You mean a lot to me?_ he asked himself in disgust. _So does a library book. Say something __**better **__than that!_

"You mean a lot to me, too," Anne said happily. "I'm so happy you don't have to go away. I was kind of dreading his birthday," she said regretfully, gesturing to Walter, "Because I knew that right after it you'd have to leave."

"We don't have a duck pond at home," Walter said loudly. "I'm glad we gonna live here, Mama, 'cuz now we got _ducks!"_

Anne looked at him. "Live here with the ducks?" she repeated.

_I've got to stop putting this off or Walter will propose __**for **__me_, he thought desperately.

He put starlit balconies out of his mind and came back to reality.

"_Anne_," he said. He stopped walking suddenly, taking both her hands into his own, looking deep into her eyes.

Anne could feel the very atmosphere around them shift, and startled, she looked at him.

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. What…

Gilbert dropped to one knee. "When I met you, my life changed. You do that, you know, you- you make everything _new_, and _different_, and…"

"Gilbert," she exhaled, as if she could not process what he was doing.

"I _love _you, Anne. I worked it out so I can stay in Avonlea because I don't want to spend _one more minute _of my life _without _you. Being apart has been the most agonizing time of my life- and I'm done with that- if you would-" fumbling, he reached into his jacket pocket for the _ring- _"If you would agree to be my wife, I'd be the happiest man in the world...I only hope I'm worthy of you, darling. But I promise you I will do everything humanly possible to give you the life you _deserve- _you and Walter." His shining eyes were full of hope. "Will you _marry _me?"

Anne's mouth opened, but- so unlike herself, she found herself rendered speechless- and only a surprised breath escaped her.

Her first thought was to look over at her parents.

There was Matthew, _dear_ Matthew, giving her a quiet, approving nod, and Marilla, standing with her hands clasped together under her chin, her smile wide and her eyes sparkling.

Anne looked back at Gilbert, laughing now. She felt tears spring to her eyes and before she knew it they were rolling down her cheeks.

She did not even stop to answer him. She leaned in and found her lips at his, unashamed to be kissing him in front of Matthew and Marilla, because now they were engaged.

They were engaged.

Marilla realized, then, _why_ Gilbert had wanted them there.

Oh, sure, a part of it was his kindness in allowing them to witness the moment.

But the larger part was that _he knew _if he asked Anne to marry him, the very first thing Anne would say was _But what will Mar-_

With Matthew and Marilla invited along to be spectators, Anne knew instantly, without a doubt, that things were _settled. _

And because she knew that, she was just free to be as happy as she could be the very moment he asked her. There was to be no hesitation, no delay, no worry over if it would be allowed.

Marilla became emotional again with that realization. Gilbert truly did think of everything.

Now she watched as they kissed.

When Anne finally pulled away- tears still coming down- yet laughing despite them- Gilbert asked, "Is that a yes, then?"

They both laughed. "_Yes,_" Anne said.

"Well," Marilla spoke up, clearing her throat, trying to settle her emotion, "I think the two of you ought to take a little stroll on your own, don't you? We'll look after Walter."

"I go _too_," Walter said, wiggling away from Marilla.

But she caught him, saying, "No, you stay right here with us."

Gilbert looked at Anne- his own eyes wet- and without a word offered her his arm. She took it, smiling quietly at him, and walking close together as one, they left to take that stroll.

Marilla and Matthew watched as they walked away.

"She ain't our little girl anymore," Matthew commented after a moment. "Makes you right emotional, don't it?"

"Fiddlesticks," Marilla answered, wiping inconspicuously at the corner of her eye. "There's no reason for all the fuss. She'll be so close by, after all, it won't be like anything's changed."

But her voice sounded a bit wobbly, Matthew noticed, and so he reached out and took his sister's hand, offering her- in his gentle and steady way- a quiet moment of solidarity.


	190. i don't know a title

Posting so at least you know I'm still alive? :p

* * *

Their walk together, brief as it was, was the loveliest time either of them could imagine. Finally being secure in their future together was _exhilarating_. Marriage was no longer an ephemeral, 'someday' dream, but was soon to _be_: a promised future, on the horizon and very much allowed. Later, in the years after this glorious walk, they'd hardly remember even half of the things they talked about- it would be a hazy, dreamlike fog. They knew Matthew and Marilla weren't far off, but they had privacy to talk together as a couple. They walked with their arms entwined, sometimes letting go and walking hand in hand, instead, their fingers laced. Anne was very aware of the ring, heavy on her finger as she walked, and Gilbert, holding her hand, was overjoyed to feel it there.

"It's too late to have a summer wedding," Anne mentioned, disappointed. But then, "You know, a wedding _after_ summer might be nice- to sort of _reclaim_ the fall." She smiled. "Fall would be a happy time, if it was about us getting married. But then...no, that won't work. None of our friends could come. Too many people are away, at Redmond, and teaching...oh, Gilbert, I have a wonderful idea. Let's get married at Christmas!"

"Christmas?" Gilbert asked with a smile. It was certainly unusual, but he'd have expected nothing less from her.

"Everyone will be home at Christmas!" Anne explained. "Diana, and Ruby and Jane, and _everybody_." But she trailed off, second guessing her idea. "Although I did so want a wedding _outdoors…_"

"It's the wrong time of year for that, love. Do you want to wait until spring?" Gilbert asked.

"No, we've waited long enough," Anne said decidedly.

But her face clouded over. "Unless...maybe we _should_ wait till spring. Would you rather wait? Because maybe by _then_, enough time will have gone by that maybe I'll be able to- to do- I could manage to _try_..."

Gilbert stopped, taking her hands in his own. "We don't need to wait on _that_ to get married."

"But…won't it be worse for you? Living together, and still not…"

Gilbert squeezed her hand, feeling the ring on her finger. He said slowly, "That's too much pressure, Anne, you'd be sick all winter dreading the springtime. Instead of being excited about the wedding, you'd just keep worrying about what you _think_ you're expected to do afterward."

Anne bit her lip. That was _exactly_ what would happen, she knew.

Gilbert stroked her cheek. "That won't work, darling. And there's no reason to delay marriage until you think you can try it." Seeing her doubt, he smiled, telling her, "We'll have fun even just _living_ together- think how nice it'll be not to have to say goodbye."

And then she felt better, because it would be.

* * *

As they came back to the picnic at the pond, Marilla smiled. _They look just right together,_ she thought to herself. _And so happy._

Anne and Gilbert saw Walter in the distance. He had been sitting with Matthew and Marilla on the picnic blanket, but jumped up and bounced up and down the minute he saw his mama and Gil-ber returning.

Gilbert scooped him up and tickled him, making him laugh.

"You was gone too long," Walter said in an accusing sort of way.

"Well, we have a lot to talk about now," Anne told him, smiling. "Did you eat, Walter?"

"Uh-huh. Sammich," Walter told him. "Sammich and strawberries and cake."

"Sandwich, Walter, not sammich," Anne corrected gently.

"Sands at the beach," Walter told her. "There's no sand in my sammich." This made perfect sense to him and he sat down to finish his sammich.

Anne rolled her eyes good naturedly and sat down with her son. Gilbert settled himself by Anne's side and cut a slice of cake for her.

When the sandwiches and fruit and cake were gone, they sat a while at the pond, relaxing and talking about the future:

"You'll have to move when it's time for Gilbert to go to medical school," Marilla pointed out.

"I still have three more years doing coursework for Redmond," Gilbert said, squeezing Anne's hand. "It won't be for a long while."

"And _that'll_ be just three years, too," Anne said. "When he's finished, we'll be able to come back home."

Matthew cautioned, "It'll depend on where he finds work, Anne." Matthew hoped it would be near Avonlea so he would not miss her chatter.

"If it's not in Avonlea, it'll have to be somewhere nearby," Gilbert said- _he had no intention of taking away Walter's grandparents-_ "Anyway it likely _will_ be here. Dr. Carter mentioned to me that he isn't far from retirement. We've been talking a lot lately- about his experiences and my schooling- and he said it sounded like my graduation from medical school would be just the opportunity he needed to hand the practice over."

"That's mighty convenient, isn't it?" Matthew said, with a pointed look at Marilla.

"It sounds suitable," Marilla said calmly. "So you'll be able to live nearby after all." But when Anne grinned at her she couldn't help smiling back.

"Where will we live during medical school, though?" Anne asked, suddenly wondering and turning to Gilbert.

"We'll rent a house. More likely it'll be a flat, though- we'll be in the city, after all."

Anne looked at Walter. "He's never lived in a city. Well, except when he was first born. But we left when he was a month old and he never went anywhere. He doesn't know what a city is like."

"Yes, he does," Gilbert said. "You brought him to visit me in Kingsport."

"I meant what it's like to _live_ in a city," Anne clarified. "But it's just three years, and it'll be an adventure. An exhilarating adventure."

"What exhilarating adventure?" Walter asked, suddenly part of the conversation.

_You can say 'exhilarating adventure', but you refuse to use the proper word for sandwich,_ Anne thought.

"Going away," Anne explained. "We're going to live in the city when Gilbert goes to medical school. That way we don't have to be apart any longer."

"Grandma and Grandpa come too," Walter said happily.

"No, we'll stay here," Marilla told him. "But as soon as Gilbert's all done, you can come back to us."

"_Then_ we all be together," Walter said, climbing onto Marilla's lap.

"Yes," Marilla told him, gathering him up. "We'll all be together."

When they were ready to finish their picnic, they packed everything up and carried the basket and blanket back to Gilbert's house.

"Gilbert, you should come over," Marilla insisted.

"No," Walter said loudly.

Everyone looked down at him, startled. Walter not wanting Gilbert to be him every minute was unfathomable.

"Why not, Walter?" Anne asked with a little laugh. "Don't you want to spend more time with him?"

"Gil-ber need to stay here with _us_," Walter explained.

"Stay here with _us?_ But we're going _home_," Anne said, taking his hand to pull him along.

"We live here now," Walter demanded, pointing at Gilbert's house.

They all looked at each other.

"You said if Mama wants to keep the ring, then we live _here_," he explained sensibly.

"Oh. Walter-"

"She _keeped_ it. Let's go!"

"Walter," Gilbert said laughing, "I didn't mean right _away_. Later, later on- there has to be a wedding first."

"And you said Mama can have your bed, too."

Embarrassed, Gilbert said quickly to Matthew and Marilla, "I never said that."

There was an awkward laugh.

"Come on, Walter," Anne said. "Gilbert will come over to our house for now. And after Christmas, his house can be our house, too."

"Well, all right then," Walter accepted.


	191. Quack

no real shirbert here sorry but next chapter has wedding preparation stuff in it including choosing anne's wedding dress

* * *

"Do you know when you might want to have the wedding?"

_Four years ago,_ was Anne's thought, but to Marilla she said, "Probably Christmas. I know it's an unusual time for a wedding but it's too late to have it this summer and in the fall nobody will be here to come to it. I asked Gilbert if he wanted to wait until spring, because I thought if we delayed it some more then maybe I could…" Anne bit her lip, looking down at her son.

"You could…" Marilla took a breath. "Oh, Anne…."

"...he said we shouldn't wait for that, that it doesn't matter and we can go ahead and get married anyway. I don't really want to wait that long either. It was just a thought."

"Well, I'm glad he feels that way," Marilla said briskly. "Rachel said married life might not be an option for you and I admit I'd been worrying, but if he's willing to...to _wait_, then we can all rest easy about it."

Anne made a face. "Married life might not be for me? _She's_ the one who wanted you and the Andrews to drag us to the courthouse and make us marry each other!"

"She never wanted the two of you to be _together_. She only wanted the license on record for the sake of the baby," Marilla said calmly, "because it would be unfortunate for him that his birth certificate says his parents weren't married."

"Well, it was a rotten idea, anyway," Anne grumbled.

"I quite agree," Marilla said, though she hadn't approved of Anne's choice of language.

"I mean, I understand what she _meant_," Anne said slowly.

Marilla nodded. "Yes. I do _feel_ for Walter- his birth certificate will be a problem for him in life, but there was no way we could have allowed-"

"It makes _me _sound awfully selfish, though, doesn't it," Anne interrupted flatly. "He wouldn't be considered a bastard child if I'd have gone to the courthouse and made myself a sacrificial lamb."

Marilla could not be exasperated at Anne's dramatics on this point, or her choice of words, and so all she did was reach out, patting Anne on the shoulder. "I didn't mean it that way, dear," she said gently. "Well, we can't do anything about his birth certificate, but at least he won't grow up fatherless, will he?"

Anne finally smiled. "No, he won't grow up fatherless. At least there's that."

This conversation had gone over Walter's head; he didn't understand and was busy looking at the birds chirping in the trees. They went out to the clothesline, and Anne set down their basket.

"It'll be exciting to get to live together," Marilla said, her voice bright as she began to take the washing down from the line. Anne was helping her, and even Walter was, by taking the wooden clothespins as Marilla handed them down to him one by one. "If you think about it, this is the first time in your life you've been able to choose for yourself who you live with! No more being told where to go, moving in with strangers and hoping they're decent to you."

"That's true," Anne realized. "That's very interesting."

"...You'll have many happy years ahead, I'm sure."

Anne smiled, knowing she would, and knowing that finally- _finally- _things were looking up for her.

"I know Gilbert's house is already furnished," Marilla said, "But there are several things I thought you ought to take with you. Some of our rugs and quilts and things in the spare room, and the like." Her face pink, she said falteringly, "Just to give you a little reminder of...home."

Anne noticed just the tiniest hint of moisture in her mother's eyes.

* * *

Walter could not go out in the fields with his grandpa today, and Mama was not paying any attention to him because she was writing something, so he went looking for Grandma.

He found her in her room, with the door shut. She was making funny noises, and he reached up to turn the doorknob with great effort; the doors were heavy and the knob was hard to turn.

He toddled in to find Grandma on her bed, facing away from him. He reached out and poked her in the arm.

Startled, she turned to face him. In her upset, she had not heard the little boy come in at all.

"Walter," she said, swallowing and clearing her throat.

"You crying," Walter said, climbing up beside her. "Did you fall down and get a boo boo?" He snuggled next to her. "I make it all better."

Marilla couldn't help laughing a bit at that. "No, darling," she said, wiping her eyes. "I didn't fall down and get a boo boo. I'm quite all right, you're not to worry."

Walter looked up at her. "Why are you sad?"

"I'm not sad," Marilla insisted. "I'm very happy because your mama and Gilbert are going to get married and that will be a lovely thing."

"Then why are you crying?" Walter asked sensibly.

"Oh," Marilla straightened up and laid her handkerchief on the bedspread. "I'll miss her when you all go to Gilbert's house. Of course we'll all see each other often. Nothing will change, really- we'll still be one big happy family. But I'll miss having her right here with us." She tried to brighten up. "But it's going to be such fun for _you_, to have your Gil-ber with you all the time. I know you love him very much."

"I love _you_, too," Walter told her. "_I_ stay with _you_, Grandma. Then you won't be sad. And we can keep playing."

"Oh, no, darling," Marilla said, touched. "You'll have your own bedroom there, just for you, and you'll never have to say goodbye to Gil-ber, and your mama will be _so _happy."

Walter was confused. He didn't understand why Grandma's words were happy when her eyes were sad?

"Now, I must get up, and get about the work of the day," Marilla said, more to herself than to Walter.

Walter watched her pace a bit, wiping her eyes, and then she said, "I need to wash my face."

She poured water from her pitcher into her washbowl and dipped her soap into it. When she was finished, she brought her towel to her face, using it to have a moment to herself, resting her face in it and breathing.

"_I_ need to wash _my _face, too," Walter announced.

Marilla laughed. He had no reason to need to wash his face, only doing it because his Grandma had. But Marilla brought him to the bowl and washed it anyway. As she wiped his little round face with the wet towel, she took a shaky breath, wishing she could keep him this little for all of time.

"Let's play now," Walter said, pulling on her.

"All right, what shall we play?" Marilla asked, standing up straighter and trying to get herself back to how she wanted to be.

"Gil-ber has a pond," Walter began.

"Yes."

"We don't got a pond," Walter went on.

"No, we don't," Marilla agreed.

Walter grinned. "We can _make _a pond."

"How do we do that?" Marilla asked, amused with him.

Walter pulled her along to the kitchen, where he said, "The table is the big rock in the middle of the pond."

"All right."

"And the kitchen floor is all the water," he explained to her. He began hopping up and down in the 'water'. "I'm a frog," he told her. "Look at me."

He began singing out "Ribbit, ribbit," as he hopped all around the kitchen, and Marilla was once again filled with the desire to keep him this way.

Finally she sat down. "I'll just watch you hop. Grandma's too old to be a frog."

Walter, still hopping, said, "You don't hop, Grandma."

Marilla nodded. "Good."

Walter went on cheerfully, "You don't hop 'cause _you _not a frog. You a duck. Ducks don't hop. They go quack, quack."

Marilla did not hear Rachel at the door.

Rachel, as she sometimes did, came in of her own accord, and found her composed, proper friend bent slightly over, her knees at a funny angle and her hands tucked up underneath her armpits to look like wings, following Walter around the kitchen, _quacking _at him.

Mid-quack, Marilla turned and found Rachel standing there, her hands on her hips and her mouth ready for laughter. "As I live and breathe, Marilla Cuthbert!" Rachel began.

"_If you breathe a word of this to anyone,_" Marilla almost hissed, taking her hands from underneath her armpits, "_Your little steam-envelope-opening trick is going to be brought to light quicker than you can say quack."_


	192. Four

"He's lost his babyish roundness! He doesn't even really look like a baby anymore," Anne said, her chin wavering. "When you have a two year old that's a baby, and when you have a three year old they're kind of still a baby just a little bit, but a four year old isn't a baby and if I _call _him my baby he tells me he _isn't_ a baby!"

Gilbert laughed a little. "Anne, he can't stay a baby _forever_."

That brought to Anne's mind a thought she had when Walter was less than a year old and she was so tired of having to deal with him at all. Back then, she had thought about how miserable it would be to have to haul around a baby for the rest of her life. Marilla had laughed at this and told Anne that Walter wouldn't _stay_ a baby. Anne, in her depression, had somehow not been fully aware of this fact, and had brightened up, thinking optimistically: _That's right. He won't stay little. He'll keep getting older and then he'll grow up and go away and I won't have to think about him anymore! _The thought had made her feel better. Now, it broke her heart.

* * *

Anne baked Walter's birthday cake all by herself, making it a layer cake with white frosting. Gilbert bought jellybeans for her, and he brought them over the afternoon of the party, so she could use them to spell out W-A-L-T-E-R across the top of the cake.

"Four cakes, mama," Walter said happily when he saw it. "I have four cakes!"

_Heaven help me, he can't even count well enough to know that there is only __**one **__cake sitting here in front of him, _Anne thought. But even though she was annoyed with him, she did not show her annoyance. Instead, she tried to explain patiently:

"Walter, this is _one _cake. _Four _would be this many," Anne said, holding up four fingers so he could see. "Look at mama's hand- one, two, three, four. That's four. You have _one _cake here. See? One."

But Walter _could _count to four, and showed her. He held up his own hand. "But I have a cake now I'm four. That means I had a birthday cake _four times. _One _now_, and one for each of _this many_."

His explanation didn't make a lot of sense, but Anne got it perfectly. "Right," she said, pleased with him. She tapped his fingers: "You had a cake when you were one, and another when you were two, and then three, and now four. You're right, you had four birthday cakes."

Then she had another thought. "You know what, Walter? You've had _more _than four birthday cakes. We had a _lot _of birthday cakes when you were a little tiny baby. Back then, you had...eleven of them."

"Eleven?" Walter asked with surprise. He had no idea what eleven meant, but mama showed him that it was even more than all his fingers.

_Eleven cakes, _she recalled. _I started celebrating his little weekly 'birthdays' when he was turning twenty-six weeks old, and it was just after he turned thirty-seven weeks old that he was finally born..._

"I don't remember all those cakes," Walter said sadly.

"Well, you were teeny-tiny then. Of course you wouldn't remember. But mama ate the cake, and _you _ate everything _mama _ate."

Anne had not yet told him that a baby comes from a mama's tummy- and he had not yet thought to _ask _where babies come from- so she left that part out.

"Grandma, I eated eleven cakes!" Walter said as Marilla walked in.

"What? Anne, you didn't-" Marilla came in, seeing Anne's finished product, jellybeans and all. "Why, that's perfect. What a nice job you did. Walter, don't you have a kind mama to bake you a big lovely cake?"

Anne beamed.

"Eleven is this many," Walter explained, holding up seven fingers. Anne sighed.

Gilbert rubbed Anne's back. "Eleven is a big number," he said to Walter. "You did a good job trying. Are you ready to have your birthday cake this afternoon?"

Walter nodded happily.

* * *

"You know what Walter's birthday means," Anne sighed after Walter had followed Marilla into the parlor.

"What?" Gilbert asked.

"Mrs. Andrews will start _interfering_."

"She hasn't seen him in a long time," Gilbert said, surprised.

"She sees him every week at church."

"I meant alone. She doesn't spend time alone with him."

"It doesn't matter if she's close or far," Anne pointed out. "Either way she can _see_ him, and _he looks more like her son every day!_ She practically drools over him at church."

"Are you sure you aren't...exaggerating, just a little?"

Anne replied, "We should ask her what the reverend's sermons are about. I bet she won't know. She doesn't pay any attention to them. She's too busy daydreaming that we'll all be one big happy family."

Gilbert shook his head. He couldn't argue with her, she was probably right.

"And she _knows _it's his birthday. Last year she left him a present, even though I'd been refusing to speak to her for goodness knows how long. She hasn't been allowed to be alone with him all year- maybe longer. Let's see what she does this year to worm her way into his life."

"Would you like me to go talk to her?" Gilbert asked. "I could tell her she's not welcome."

Anne shook her head. "I'd rather just ignore her. That's what I've been doing. I don't look at her in church. I can feel her eyes on me, but I never look."

"All right. But if you change your mind and want me to talk to her, just let me know and I will," Gilbert promised.

"Thank you," Anne said quietly.

* * *

Walter's guests began arriving at a quarter past three. He was so excited that Anne finally had to pick him up and hold him for a few minutes to get him settled down, because she wanted him to calm down a bit before he knocked anyone over. But she didn't mind holding him. _It won't be much longer, _she realized, _soon he'll be too big to hold._

His birthday was lovely, and he- like usual- won all the games. When Anne brought his cake out, he began pulling off the jellybeans. He took one and handed the other one to Clara.

"Walter!" Don't touch the cake!" Anne exclaimed. "Wait for it to be cut and for everyone to have some!"

Walter and Clara quickly put the jellybeans in their mouths.

Anne shook her head. "I'm sorry, everyone. I'll make sure you get pieces he hasn't put his hands into."

Walter and Clara thought that pulling off the jellybeans had been the most hilarious thing in the world, and every few minutes one of them would whisper "jellybean" to the other, as if it was their inside joke, and they'd both break into giggles.

Clara looked so pretty with her big shining eyes and blonde ringlets. Her fluffy lavender dress and white boots with pearl buttons made her look like a little china doll. Emily had even gotten Clara her very own little lace parasol. And for the first time Anne could see that Walter wasn't just her friend, he was absolutely smitten with her. Anne remembered how Clara had kissed Walter when they were still babies- after she'd bopped him in the nose. _I'm glad I kept him because- well, I'm glad I kept him anyway- but for Clara's sake now, too. They like each other so much...it would have been sad if they grew up never knowing each other._

"I'm four now, _too_," Walter was telling her. "Now we _both_ four."

"I'm a grown up," Clara told him wisely. "I'm going to be five in this many months." She held up three fingers.

"One, two, three," Walter counted her fingers. He did not know what a month was, but he could count to three to see how many of them there'd be. "Then you have a birthday party."

"Yes, I'm going to have a birthday party," Clara agreed. "You have to come and we'll eat some more jellybeans."

"I'll let you win all the games," Walter told her.


	193. A Rough Road

Walter was four, and knew that holding up four fingers showed his age. Anne seemed happy enough with this, though she felt that she ought to work more with him on numbers and letters. Now that he was four, he didn't have long before he could go to school, and she didn't want him not to know anything when he began. This time, though, she resolved to teach him with patience and understanding.

Walter was growing up in another way, too. When summer was over and fall began, he wouldn't be in the church nursery anymore. Now that he was four, he was old enough for Sunday School. Clara was already in the young children's class, so Walter was excited to go. He'd missed her when she moved up. He hadn't really understood why his best friend had left the nursery and he was still in it. Anne tried to explain that Clara was nine months older than he was, but Walter hadn't understood months or the number nine and her explanation fell on deaf ears. No matter, now they would be together again.

Anne dressed him especially nice for his first Sunday in class, shined his shoes, and made sure that his hair looked perfect. She would always dislike his hair, but she considered it her duty to keep him presentable looking.

But as she made sure those light little waves were neat, she noticed with dismay that his once light blonde hair was now becoming a honey blonde, and she expected that when summer was over it would probably look light brown. She sighed, remembering that Jane had mentioned to her once that she and Prissy and Billy had all started out as fair blondes and had darkened to a honey-blonde, light brown over time. Walter was to be the same. Despite how attached Anne was to her son, the mere fact that he was like a tiny litte Billy Andrews would always stand in the way of her considering him cute. But she had to admit that _objectively-_ according to anyone _else-_ he was attractive.

As they rode to church, Anne told him to listen to his teacher and to remember that it wasn't like the nursery where they just played all the time, this was a class and they would do real things in it.

"But I wanna go to _your_ class, mama," he said, wiggling away from Anne when she tried to straighten the little tie she'd made him wear.

"My class is for school age children, not you," Anne told him. "When you're bigger."

"I don't like this," he continued to complain, pulling at the tie around his neck.

"It's just the same as Gilbert's," Anne told him.

Walter did not complain any more about wearing it after that.

* * *

"Where's Clara," Walter asked the moment they were in the building.

"I don't see her," Anne answered him. "Oh, yes, there I do. She's up near the organ. Do you want to go say hello?"

Walter ran from Anne before she could stop him. She had meant to walk him to Clara herself, but then she decided she didn't mind; she could watch him from where she was, and as church hadn't begun yet, he wasn't disrupting anything by going off alone.

Anne hadn't counted on Mrs. Andrews taking advantage of Walter's freedom.

Anne was distracted by the greetings of several of the little children she taught in Sunday School, and after this, she went to their regular pew to sit down. She didn't go tracking down Walter, sure that he would soon come back to his mama.

But when she glanced around the congregation, she saw that Walter was sitting with Mrs. Andrews.

Anne's face felt hot.

She did not want to go over there, but she _had_ to get Walter away.

She finally- reluctantly- made her way over.

"And what did you get for your birthday?" Mrs. Andrews was asking in a sweet voice. When she looked up, there was Anne.

The two stared at each other.

"Walter, go back to Grandma," Anne said tightly.

"But I wanna stay with Aunt Jane's mama," Walter protested.

"I _said_ go to Grandma," Anne said, her voice harsh. Walter, surprised by her tone, got upset. His face crinkled up. Anne did not notice or care. "Now!" she practically yelled.

Walter's cheeks were wet. What stung him even more than his mama yelling was that he finally- _finally-_ had Aunt Jane's mama, who he _liked_. He saw her every week at church, but he was never allowed to _go_ to her, and mama was so mean to make him leave her when he'd only just started. He began to whine loudly: "You _neverrr _let me see Aunt Jane's _mamaaaa!"_

A few people glanced over at them, and then- making everything worse, Walter grabbed hold of Mrs. Andrews and would not be moved.

Anne grabbed his arm to yank him away and he clung harder.

Mrs. Andrews was upset, too. "Go on now, listen to your mama," she murmured. But it was plain to see she wanted to cling to him just as much as he was to her.

Anne finally dragged him away, back to her own family.

People were staring, and after a moment she heard hushed whispers all around her. She was sure that people were talking about the unmentionable relationship between the two families, and her face burned with embarrassment.

"I want to go home," she said to Marilla, near tears.

Marilla and Matthew had not seen what had happened. But Anne said, her tone fragile, told them that Walter had somehow made his way over to Mrs. Andrews. "She probably lured him over there," she finished bitterly.

Matthew hugged Anne to his side, but even that did not help. "I'm going home," she said, weepy.

"Anne, you can't," Marilla said. "You've got your class to teach."

"Tell them I'm sick," she answered. "Tell them I died. I'm not staying!" But as she got up to go, she saw Gilbert coming into the church.

The moment he saw her, he knew something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

"Everything's awful and I want to go home," she said with a shuddery breath.

Walter was crying.

Gilbert picked Walter up as the introit began. Walter calmed down the moment he had his Gilbert, but Anne could not calm down. Even as her tears left her, her anger remained.

Gilbert held her hand as the choir began singing. He had no idea what had happened.

When it was time for the children to leave, Anne dropped Walter off with the woman who would teach his class, and then took her own little pupils to her classroom. Her lesson, planned with such optimism, was now hard to get through.

After church, Gilbert came home with them. He was quickly filled in on the events and sat stroking Anne's hand as she talked.

When she had finished, Gilbert took a breath. "You know, Anne, I wanted us to stay in Avonlea so Walter wouldn't have to be separated from his grandparents. My parents are gone, and yours are all he has, and that's...that's important, and I didn't want to take that away from him. But I'm wondering if we should move."

"We _are_ moving. When you have medical school," Anne reminded him.

"But I mean before that. And...permanently."

Anne just stared at him.

He continued: "If we aren't in the same town with the Andrews, this kind of thing won't keep happening. ...I don't see it getting better, Anne, in fact I think it's only going to get worse."

"But I don't _want_ to move," Anne said weepily. "I've never been gone from Matthew and Marilla. I didn't go to Queens, I never had to get used to being apart from them! I'd...I'd miss them."

"I know, but…it might be the best thing for you," Gilbert said, rubbing her back. "The stress must feel overwhelming- seeing the Andrews constantly? Never mind church, you still see them in town." He held her close. "And there's no reason you should have to go through that, love. If we lived somewhere else, you could breathe easier."

"But I don't _want_ to move," she repeated.

"All right," he conceded. He had another idea. "Maybe just church...we don't have to go to church here."

"Where would we go?" Anne asked, wiping her eyes.

"Carmody," he suggested.

"That's too far away. ...Everywhere is too far away."

"No, it's not. You know people walk to Carmody. We'd take the horse and buggy, though. It wouldn't be out of the way."

Anne bit her lip. "I'd have to give up teaching my Sunday School class," she said. "And I like teaching it."

"Maybe you could teach in the other chur…" Gilbert trailed off, seeing Anne's expression. It wasn't likely and they both knew it. Avonlea's new reverend was young and progressive. He had defended Anne against people who thought an unwed mother wasn't a suitable teacher. It was almost unheard of; how likely was it that she would find another reverend with similar views?

Once that occurred to him, it also occurred to him that switching churches might present another problem. Avonlea knew Anne's story. It was no secret that Billy had attacked Anne. Not only had he admitted it, but the "settlement" the Andrews had offered the Cuthberts was public knowledge too. His parents had sent him to live with an aunt and uncle in Nova Scotia because they realized he was unlikely to find any courtship prospects if he stayed in Avonlea where every girls' parents knew of his misdeed. While some of the townsfolk wondered if Anne had done something to make herself a temptation to Billy, most people in town just felt sorry for her. If Gilbert and Anne began church in another town where no one knew her, Anne would be starting all over. _Maybe after we're married,_ he thought. _Once we're married, we could go to another town and nobody would have to know she'd ever been an unwed mother…_

Anne was still talking: "If we moved away from Avonlea- permanently- you'd have to sell your farm...and buy a new house somewhere else...I _like_ your house. It's where you grew up. And it's where I got to spend time with your father. I don't want to lose it."

"I don't either," he said. "But I want to do whatever's going to be the best thing for you...you're more important than the house."

"But I don't want to move," she insisted. "And I like the reverend we have now...I never liked the old one."

"I like him too," Gilbert agreed. "But darling, if we don't leave Avonlea, and we don't leave the church, then we've got a problem."


	194. Decisions, Despair, and Doilies

_This is short, but it's basically just Gilbert and Walter's thought processes, and it just didn't fit with other stuff. (have another chapter almost ready will post in 1/2 hr)_

* * *

Nothing was resolved. Gilbert thought leaving Avonlea would be the best thing for Anne, and Anne argued that she didn't want to go.

He was willing to give in to her now, but he decided without telling her that if this was going to happen frequently, they were moving out of Avonlea whether she wanted to or not. He could not let her be hurt over and over again, and he could think of no other solution.

After they got married he could speak to Mrs. Andrews about staying away from his family, but he also knew that would resolve nothing- she would find ways to keep cropping up, time and again.

He was well aware that Anne would be angry with him if he insisted they move when she didn't want to, but he'd rather Anne be angry with him than watch her be filled with anger over and over as the Andrews continued to infiltrate their lives.

He felt glad, now, that they'd have three whole years they'd _have_ to be away from Avonlea. He hoped the long break would help the situation. When they left for medical school, Walter would be about seven, and they'd return to Avonlea when he was around ten years old...but Gilbert had his suspicions that the older Walter got, the more Mrs. Andrews would want to be in contact.

Gilbert didn't want to be the sort of husband who made decisions without his wife. But enough was enough, and getting Anne away from this toxic situation was not something he was willing to compromise on.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

Anne's anger at Mrs. Andrews prevented her from two church functions the following week, going into town to mail a letter, and kept her away from a town hall meeting she was interested in.

She asked Gilbert to take her column to the post office for her, which he happily did, but he was sad to have to take the news to the church that Anne did not want to teach her Sunday School class anymore.

The biggest problem Anne faced, though, was _not_ Mrs. Andrews, but _Walter_.

Walter, being very young, had never before realized there was any problem between his mama and Aunt Janes mama- instead, he fully believed his mama's words when she would tell him '_we can't go see her right now, she's busy',_ or '_maybe another time we'll stop and chat',_ and other such put-offs.

But _now_, after he'd finally made his way over to Aunt Jane's mama by himself- and had been snapped at so _viciously_ as a consequence- he finally connected that his mama had never intended to let him see her.

This filled him with emotions he could not verbalize, and instead his feelings came out as temper tantrums. He could not fathom why he wasn't allowed to see someone who loved him, and his mother could not- or would not- explain.

* * *

The next time Gilbert was with Anne, she had moved on- momentarily- from Mrs. Andrews, and was worrying about something else.

"I didn't know I was supposed to be making _doilies!_" she said, slumping down into the sofa.

"Doilies?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, doilies! You know, to go underneath vases and on top of cushions and things. Diana wrote to me asking what kinds of plans I'd made for the wedding and for our home and everything. She was so excited about us getting married. Which was fine. But then she started going on about hope chests and doilies and all kinds of things I'd never thought of before. I haven't made _any_ doilies. She has thirty-six and she isn't even engaged!"

"Are doilies very important?" he asked, looking around the room. "This room's survived all these years without any, so I don't expect they're _too_ vital."

Anne smiled. Then she frowned. "I need more _things_. All my sewing's been for _Walter_. I don't have anything to use in our _home_."

"That's a problem easily solved- we've got a house already furnished," Gilbert said. "What else do you need?"

"I don't know...I don't even know what I need! I'll have to ask Marilla. She never married but she ought to _know_, and anyway she's supposed to be my mother so she has to give me _advice_ about things like this."

But when Anne asked Marilla, she found that Marilla had more than advice to give.


	195. The Hope Chest

"I've got plenty of doilies for you," Marilla said briskly when Anne came to her with yesterday's concern. "Come with me."

In the spare room, in a corner, underneath many less important things, there was an old trunk. Marilla slowly pulled it away from the wall and lovingly brushed it off.

She unhooked the latch and Anne heard it creak open, as if it had been a very long since anyone had disturbed its rest. Marilla paused a moment before lifting anything out. Anne said nothing and only watched her. At last Marilla lifted out a small bag and handed it to Anne. Very curious, Anne peeked in, and found a neat stack of perfectly made doilies.

"Did you make these, Marilla?"

Marilla just nodded. "And you're welcome to anything else I have stored up."

Anne knelt down to the floor and hesitantly lifted the tray from the trunk so she could see everything it held.

On the tray were cloth napkins- fancy ones- and an embroidered table runner. Inside the trunk she found a pewter candle snuffer, a small cut glass butter dish, pillow cases, a never-used quilt, and one little baby garment neatly folded.

"What _is_ all this, Marilla? You've never used them."

Marilla would have preferred to leave Anne to look through the things on her own, but Anne's question caught her at the door.

"They were...things I'd gotten. Some I made, others I was given. ...We girls used to call them hope chests."

"Diana and Ruby have them," Anne breathed. "I'd forgotten all about Ruby's. But Diana wrote to me about hers in a letter."

Marilla's soft answer came after a moment of quiet. "Yes. A girl would fill it as she grew up, in the hope of...in the hope of having a home and family of her own one day."

Anne looked up suddenly. "But-"

Marilla didn't meet Anne's eyes. "This was mine."

Anne sat back from it. She didn't know if she felt all right about going through Marilla's things.

Seeing Anne biting her lip, Marilla came back into the room. Sitting down on the edge of the bed nearby Anne, she said, "You don't have to feel that way, you know. It was such a long time ago, and really, it's almost a sin to let so many useful things go to waste!"

"But they would have been useful before, and you never got them out _then_," Anne protested. "It must have made you too sad to open the trunk..."

Marilla picked up the lovingly made doilies and smiled a bit at them. "I thought it unlikely I'd ever marry, after John and I didn't work out. It was him I had in mind all the time I was sitting in the windowsill crocheting these little things! But...after he moved on, I suppose I thought maybe I'd settle down with someone else, anyone else, one of these days."

"You wanted to marry someone else?" Anne asked.

"No," Marilla admitted. "It was only ever John Blythe. But he had married, what was I to do? As time went on and my friends around me were all married and having children, I had a thought that maybe someone _else_ would come along, someone who could make me _forget_ him, and…oh, but I guarded my heart- I'd never let anyone in after John."

Anne was surprised at how much Marilla was opening up to her.

"It was wasteful of me not to open up this trunk long ago and start _using_ these things!" she said, sounding ashamed. "That table runner would have been a nice touch at Christmas dinner, and we could always use things like napkins and pillowcases- and Walter certainly could have worn that little outfit. I suppose I felt that as long as I was still _saving_ them, then I…"

Anne waited for her to go on.

"Oh, it's so silly: It seemed to me that taking them all out of the trunk and having them in this house for everyday use meant I was admitting to myself that they'd never be used in a married home of my own."

"That isn't silly," Anne whispered, laying a hand over Marilla's aged one. "I wouldn't have wanted you to take them out if it made you sad."

But Marilla came out of some long ago moment, and refocusing, looked down at Anne with a smile. "Seeing them doesn't make me sad. Not when they'll be used in such a happy home! They were saved for the marriage of a young Mr. and Mrs. Blythe, and you know, that's exactly who will have them."


	196. The Brownie 2

"So Mrs. Andrews left him a _present_," Anne said. "How about that? A _birthday_ present for Walter."

Gilbert looked wary; her voice was bright but her eyes were dangerous. He decided not to respond. He felt it would be safer to just wait for her to continue, because surely she would-

"You know what she bought him, Gilbert?"

"No," he answered.

Anne seemed all too pleased to deliver this news: "A brownie camera! A brownie camera! It costs _two dollars,_ Gilbert! He needs new shoes, and _she_ spent _two whole dollars _on a brownie camera!"

"He needs new shoes? I can get him new-"

"That's not the point!" Anne interrupted. "Who gives a _four year old child_ a present that costs that much? And she didn't _even_ buy him the brownie, she bought him the brownie _2_. The _new_ one! I haven't let him open the box yet but it said something about needing a key to work the camera and he'll probably _lose_ the key, and then it won't work _at all._ They're made of cardboard, you know- brownie cameras are. Just cardboard covered with leather...he'll probably step on it or something and there it'll go!"

Gilbert was deciding what to say, as Anne went on:

"He can take eight pictures at a time, and then it's going to cost us sixty-five cents whenever he needs to start over!"

Anne handed the box to him.

Gilbert had an itch to try out the brownie camera himself. He thought it looked like a lot of fun. But he didn't show his excitement, because he was wise enough to know that enthusiasm over this particular gift would not go over very well right now.

He handed the box back to her, understanding Anne's stance on this. Not only that Mrs. Andrews had tried to "get in with Walter", but also…

_Really, _he thought, _its __**obtuse**_ _of Mrs. Andrews to gift a CAMERA, when it had been a *****photograph__*****_ _that had caused all of their troubles to begin with. After all, the whole reason Anne had shut Mrs. Andrews out of Walter's life was because of what she had done with his PHOTOGRAPH. You'd think she wouldn't want to give Anne any reminders of what she had done..._

Anne was still talking, but Gilbert interrupted her. "How did she give it to him?"

"What?"

"How'd she give it to him?"

Anne's face clouded over. "By being _sneaky_. She gave it to the lady who teaches Walter's Sunday School class- Mrs. Whitaker. That way Mrs. Whitaker could hand it off to him as class let out."

"Walter didn't have it when we left," Gilbert recalled.

"That's because Mrs. Whitaker forgot to give it to him," Anne explained. "We left church. She brought it by this morning, apologizing, saying that Mrs. Andrews had left it in her Sunday School classroom and that she forgot all about it, and by the time she remembered, we had already left church. So she went _back_ to ask Mrs. Andrews if she wanted to deliver it _herself_, and Mrs. Andrews told her she couldn't _and that maybe Mrs. Whitaker could drop it by for her_."

"Oh," Gilbert said, reaching out for her hand.

"And _of course Walter was right with me_ and _of course _she handed it _right to him!_"

Gilbert sighed. "Oh, Anne, I'm sorry. Mrs. Andrews didn't even give you the opportunity to refuse it. And she put Mrs. Whitaker in an awkward spot, too. ...What are you going to do? Do you want me to take it back to her?"

Anne shook her head sadly. "I _can't_. And that's how she got me!"

"She got you?" Gilbert asked, his brow creased.

"Yes, she got me- Mrs. Andrews _knew _that once Walter _saw_ the present, I couldn't take it away from him! Because if _I_ take it away from him then _I'm_ the bad guy! She makes it where _I'm_ always the bad guy! Walter's already angry with me for pulling him away from her that day in church! And now I have to take her present away, too? Of _course_ I can't, and she _knows_ I can't! That's what she does, Gilbert! She's making it where she's the one who's sweet to him and I'm the one who's being mean to him!"

Gilbert pulled her close. He felt awful for her. And he knew she was absolutely right, she couldn't take the gift away after Walter had seen it and knew that it had been given to him.

"If he were older, maybe I could explain why I don't want him to accept her gifts. But he's little and he wouldn't understand."

They were quiet a moment.

After relaxing in Gilbert's arms, Anne said sadly: "So now he knows that _Aunt Jane's Mama gave him a brownie camera. _At least I could keep the _card_ away from him, he can't read and he had no interest in it."

"Can I see it?" Gilbert asked.

Anne handed it over. It was a mint green card, which on the outside said _Wishing you the happiest of birthdays_, and had an illustration of a pig wearing a party hat and pulling open a cracker.

He opened it up to see that Mrs. Andrews had written a note inside: _Dear Walter, I hope you had a lovely fourth birthday. I know I wasn't at your party, but I was thinking of you all the time. Have lots of fun with your own little brownie camera, darling. With love, Aunt Jane's Mama._

Anne commented: "He ought to be calling her Mrs. Andrews, I think. I only called her 'Aunt Jane's Mama' because I wanted it to be clear that the relationship was not with _her_, the relationship was with _Jane_. As in- _Jane_ was their link to each other! But now 'Aunt Jane's Mama' has a ring of familiarity to it and I'd rather him call her Mrs. Andrews so there's a little more...more _distance_."

Anne leaned into Gilbert, and he laid the card down so he could hold her.

"You know what, Gilbert? Maybe it's a good thing Walter isn't the brightest candle in the window. If he's going to be dim, it could help me, actually- maybe- just _maybe_\- he'll never realize what we've all been hiding."


	197. A Marble Match of the Mind

Anne finally let Walter take the camera out of the box. "It only takes eight pictures," she explained. "So decide what you want to take pictures of first, before you take them. I won't have you wasting them."

Walter nodded. He reached out for the camera, but Anne didn't give it to him. "If you handle it roughly, it'll break."

"I _woooonnnn't,_" Walter whined.

Anne sighed and gave it to him. She fully expected Walter to wander around taking aimless pictures, but he didn't. He pointed the camera at Gilbert. "Look here," he said.

Gilbert smiled. "Can Mama be in the picture, too?" he asked, pulling Anne close.

"No," Walter said emphatically.

Anne frowned. "I don't want to be in it, anyway," she said. She went back to the sink and started on the dishes.

"Why can't Mama be in it?" Gilbert asked, watching Anne.

Walter just made a face, and Gilbert sighed. He knew that Walter and Anne had a Mrs. Andrew-sized wedge between them at the moment.

"Let's go in here," Gilbert said, leading him into the parlor. _No need to take the pictures right in front of Anne._

Walter walked around, carefully looking at his surroundings. Finally he decided Gilbert should stand next to the front door. "'Cause that's where I'm the happiest," he said. "When I see you coming in the door."

Gilbert smiled, warmed by that. He stood still so Walter could get his picture. But Walter had an eye for photography and realized the angle would be wrong. "I needa get higher up," he said. "Help me get higher up."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, coming back over to him.

"'Cuz it isn't good this way, it's gonna go up your nose," Walter said. Gilbert laughed, but he was impressed that Walter at four had the sense to envision how the photograph would turn out if he was shorter than his subject.

Gilbert told him he could stand up on the sofa and sit on the back of it- "Just this once," he said.

After Walter had taken his picture, he wanted Gilbert to help him find Matthew. "Grandpa next," he said. "Gilbert, Grandpa, Grandma, the house, the chickens...and then I still have three pictures left."

_I wish Anne was in here, to hear him subtracting five from eight and getting three. That would have made her happy,_ Gilbert thought to himself.

"And I need one of Aunt Jane's Mama," Walter continued.

_Never mind,_ Gilbert quickly thought. _I'm glad Anne isn't in here._

"You don't really _need_ one of Mrs. Andrews, do you?" he coaxed. "You only have eight pictures. You should use them up on mama. Mama loves you and it would be nice to have more pictures of her."

Walter looked unhappy. "I can see mama any old time. She _never_ lets me see Aunt Jane's Mama."

"You must like her a lot, don't you?" Gilbert asked quietly.

Walter nodded firmly.

Gilbert did not know why Walter had to be so attached to Mrs. Andrews. She used to come over to their house and see Walter, but that had been nearly two years ago. He was surprised Walter even remembered it. His only real association with her for the past couple years had been across the aisle on Sundays. But Anne had complained to him that Walter asked for Mrs. Andrews all the time. Gilbert wished Walter would take a liking to someone else. Anyone else.

After Walter had taken his picture- Gilbert amused about how serious Walter was while using his little brownie camera- they went outdoors to take one of the chickens.

"Look here, chickens," Walter instructed them. "Don't blink."

Gilbert laughed.

They had to walk out a ways to take a picture of the house, but that was all right because they would have to head out to the fields anyway to get one of Matthew.

When they finally returned to the house, Anne had finished the dishes and was wiping the table.

"Mama, I taked four pictures. That means I have four left."

Finally Anne smiled, and it was genuine this time. "Did Gilbert tell you how many you had?"

"No," Gilbert said proudly. "I didn't. He figured it out on his own."

Anne was happy.

"Now I go taked one of Grandma, then I have three left."

Gilbert decided not to mention that Walter was saving one of those three for Mrs. Andrews.

* * *

"Anne, I know the camera is a sore spot for you," Marilla said later. "But Walter seems _so_ happy. Just look at him walking around with that contraption! I saw him pushing a chair across the floor and I asked him why, and he said something about how the light coming in through the window would show on the flowers and look good in his picture. He told me that the _colors_ on the flower won't show in the picture, so all he could try to show was the way the _light_ rested. And that's the expression he used, too- '_the way the light rested'_. Now, have you ever heard a child think of something like that?"

"No," Anne said with a sigh. "But why does it have to be something _she_ gave him that he likes so much? Why couldn't it be something one of _us_ gave him?"

"None of _us_ gave him a brownie camera," Marilla said sensibly. "If you or I had given it to him, he'd like it just the same as if she'd given it."

"But I _wouldn't_ have given him a present like that," Anne argued. "It's too expensive, and I think it's ridiculous for a child _that_ little, because they won't be careful with it and it'll end up ruined."

Marilla agreed, but said: "He's being very careful."

"Yes, he is," Anne said, almost pouting. "Oh, fine, I suppose it won't hurt anything if I buy him another roll of film."

She went over to Walter and sat down on the floor with him. "When you're done with that, mama will give you a new roll and then you can take eight more."

Walter grinned. Anne picked up the brownie and looked at it. "I guess this is where you take the film out…"

"No, mama!" Walter cried hastily. "If light goes on it then they go bad. It says so in the directions."

Anne looked confused. "You read the directions?"

Walter pointed. There were illustrations showing the steps, with one marked with a black X. She shook her head, almost laughing at herself for thinking he had read the instruction manual.

* * *

Anne tucked Walter into bed and read him the story she had written for him long ago, _The Tale of the Mysterious Wapallumpooley. _First she had gotten out her copy of _The Children's Fairy House_; Anne preferred that version, because she was very proud that the magazine had published it.

But Walter wanted the _other_ one- _Anne's_ copy of the story- the one she'd cut out and pasted and illustrated herself for him when he was a baby.

"I like this one more 'cause it has my aminal in it," he explained. This was true- the copy _Anne_ had made had _her_ drawings of the stuffed animal. The version the magazine had published, on the other hand, contained illustrations that the magazine artist had done, and the artist had drawn the wapallumpooley to look nothing like the animal that Anne had actually designed, stuffed, and sewn for Walter.

Now Walter was holding the wapallumpooley in his arms and listening to Anne read his story.

"I wanna make _pictures_ for it, mama," he said when she was finished.

"I already drew pictures," Anne said with surprise. "But I suppose you could draw some, too...I'll glue yours in next to mine."

"No," Walter tried to explain. "I wanna take pictures with my brownie camera."

"Pictures...like...to act out the story, sort of?"

"Ya," he said, sitting up. "I put the wapallumpooley like this, and take a picture, 'cuz that looks like when he standed on his head. And then when the big bear chases him, I put him here and put my Gil-bear to look like he's running after him."

Anne was impressed with his idea, but looking at the little black bear he'd christened _Gil-bear_, she pointed out, "In the story, the bear is a lot bigger than the wapallumpooley. ...I think Gil-bear might too small to play the bear in the story."

"I do this," Walter said, starting to demonstrate. "I put wapallumpooley here, and I put Gil-bear here," he moved them to be in a straight row first, but then moved Gil-bear to be very close while the wallalumpooley was far away.

"Why did you do that?" Anne asked.

"Because if Gil-bear is _close_ to the camera, he look _big_. And the wapallumpooley goes far _away_, so he looks _littler_. That way it look like the bear is the big one!"

Anne stared at him.

"That would work," she said finally. "In fact, that's a very good idea, Walter. You were smart to figure out something like that."

Walter smiled. "I have two pictures left. I take one of you, mama. Tomorrow?"

"Yes," Anne smiled, giving him a hug.

"And then one of Aunt Jane's Mama," he continued happily.

Anne stiffened. "Not tomorrow," she said carefully. "Tomorrow we'll just do my picture. And wouldn't it be nice to have one of all of us, all together? ...And I'll get you a new roll so you can make your own wapallumpooley book."

Walter snuggled back down into his bed, the wapallumpooley in one arm, and Gil-bear in the other.

* * *

When Anne went back downstairs, she said to Marilla, "Does it seem like Walter is...smarter, somehow, when he's playing with that camera?"

Marilla looked up from her knitting. With a bit of a smile, she asked, "Like how he is when he's playing marbles?"

Anne thought about this. "It's like the camera is...a marble match, but in his mind."

She shrugged, knowing it sounded funny. "I mean, he can _envision_ how things will look on it. The distance apart they should be, the angles, how things should move around them…and he hasn't even _seen_ very many photographs in his life. He's thinking of things I'd expect a...photographer to think of."

Marilla nodded. "I can see that. He figures out how it _should_ go, and he has the coordination to put the plan into action. ...Matthew said he's always thinking of what the next step will be."

Anne had an expression on her face Marilla couldn't identify.

"What is it, Anne?"

"Nothing. It's just very interesting to me."


	198. New Chapter! plus recap to get caught up

hi. sorry i went MIA. I hate that I did, im sorry.

Here is a new chapter! (with a recap first in case you need a recap!) and then i also have a second chapter almost ready after it so after you read this chapter you wont be waiting more than a few hours to get the second one

* * *

this story is just way too long to have to re-read it. so if you dont remember what happened last time you read, here—

_to **recap**: (_**if you don't need the recap just scroll down past it)**

_-Mrs. Andrews used a sunday school teacher, basically getting her to pass on a birthday present to Walter without Anne knowing. The present was a Brownie 2, a type of camera back then, and Anne was angry that Mrs. Andrews was sneaky and gave it to him without Anne knowing. She is tired of Mrs. Andrews trying to insert herself into their lives._

_-Anne stopped teaching her own sunday school class and stopped going to church at all because she is sick of Walter constantly wanting to run over to Mrs. Andrews and he is just so stuck on her and it upsets Anne_

_-Gilbert went to Redmond like he did in the books (the tv show had him go somewhere else, but I started this story before the tv show had that part)_

_-After his first year he decided he could not be away from Anne for four years that was just impossible_

_-He applied for the teaching position at avonlea school and got it using his license from Queens, its still summer in the story but once its fall he'll start teaching _

_-He will stay in avonlea teaching school while taking his college courses by correspondence (the equivalent of taking online classes)_

_-because of this plan, matthew and marilla were ok with them getting married now, because they will be able to stay in avonlea and anne wont be lonely while gilbert is working because she can always come over to green gables if she is_

_-so gilbert proposed, and anne said yes, and they explained to walter that after they get married then he and anne will move in with gilbert. _

_-its too late to have a summer wedding and they don't want to wait til the following spring, so they decide on a christmas wedding since their friends will all be home for christmas _

_-marilla is about to start working on anne's wedding dress and wedding plans are coming up soon!_

_-once its time for him to go to medical school (three years from now) they will have to leave avonlea for that but will move back home once its over_

* * *

**Ok NOW THE CHAPTER:**

Now that Anne had refused to teach her Sunday School class- and would not even explain to the Reverend _why_ she didn't want to be the teacher anymore- he was obliged to look for a new one.

It turned out that the younger children's teacher would have preferred the school age children, and so with Anne out of the way she was free to move up. Another lady in the congregation was sought for the younger children's class.

Anne was sorry to have caused the problem, but she was unwilling to attend church at all, so it could not be helped.

The first day of the new term in Sunday School was unpleasant as Marilla told Anne she'd had quite enough of this and that if Anne refused to take the child to church then _she_ would take him herself.

"Fine," Anne had said. "If that's what you want, fine. As long as_ I_ don't have to go!"

Marilla sighed, because no, that was not what she wanted. "Anne," she said patiently. "It isn't setting a good example to him, for his mother not to go to church."

"You're practically his mother too. He loves you just the same as if you were, and you take care of him as much as I do. Probably more."

"Well I won't deny I'm pleased to hear you think so. I...I admit that in my mind, you _both_ are my children! ...But Anne, he _knows_ who his _mama_ is, and I can't replace her."

"Why do we need church at all?" Anne asked. "I like to pray in the woods. It has a much holier feel to it than a church building."

"I feel exactly as I did when you first arrived, when I worried Rachel Lynde would find out you were a heathen," was Marilla's dry response.

"You gave me a little card with the Lord's Prayer on it and told me I'd better learn it so I'd know how to pray."

"Yes," Marilla remembered. "And now you can say it."

"Yes," Anne agreed. "And I can say it in the woods."

Marilla decided Anne would not listen to good sense and reason. She left Anne alone and got her grandson ready for his first day of the new term herself.

But Walter was able to convince Anne to go in a way that Marilla could not.

"Mama," he said, poking at her clean sleeve with his messy oatmeal spoon. "You come too."

"I can't," Anne told him, reaching for the tea towel to wipe the oatmeal off of her blouse.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

Walter got down from his chair and got in her lap. "Then I don't want to either."

Marilla looked at her pointedly, thinking that that was exactly what _would_ happen.

Anne slid him back off of her lap. "No, you go with Grandma. You don't need me to go."

"But Clara's mama goes with _her_."

"Yes."

"And Dennis' mama goes with _him_...and Rosalie's mama... _Everybody's_ mama goes _with_ them."

Anne _could_ have waved that off, if he hadn't finished with:

"But not _my_ mama."

Anne stared at him until finally- "Oh, all _right_, I'll go."

* * *

Anne came into the church with annoyance. She did not want to be in an enclosed space with Mrs. Andrews.

But Mrs. Andrews did not look over at their family through the entire service. Even though Walter kept trying to wave at her across the aisle and Anne kept trying to make him sit still, Mrs. Andrews never turned her head.

"Oh, look, Walter," Anne said quickly, wanting to move his attention to other things. "Do you see that lady up in the front with the dark hair and the big green hat? She must be your new Sunday School teacher!"

Anne was thankful for the distraction. She felt fairly confident this _was_ the right person, because she'd heard it was going to be a lady who was new to the town and this was the only one among the crowd she didn't recognize.

When it was time for morning greetings, and people mixed together a bit to exchange pleasantries, Anne breathed a sigh of relief that Clara ran right over. Mrs. Andrews was close to them, but as long as Clara was there, Walter had eyes for no one else.

Anne, now relaxed, chatted with Emily with Walter and Clara nearby.

As the new Sunday School teacher made her way back, Anne and Emily didn't notice, but Walter and Clara did.

"Good morning," Clara said sweetly. "Are you our new teacher?"

"Why, yes, I am- if you're four and five?"

"He's four and I'm four-and-three-quarters," Clara explained importantly. "My name is Clara Perkins, and my mother and father are going to ask you over for supper."

"How nice. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Clara. My name is Mrs. Byrd."

Then she turned to Walter. "What's your name, love?"

"Walter," he said with his baby contest-winning smile.

"Where are your mother and father, Walter?"

"My mama's right here," he said, leaning back to yank on Anne's skirt. Anne turned around. "And my father's dead."

Anne and Mrs. Andrews shared a startled expression.

* * *

"You told him my son is _dead?_" Mrs. Andrews hissed at her the moment they poured out of church.

"I didn't," Anne said, making a face. "But he may as well be, for all he matters in Walter's life."

"Then why did he say it?" Mrs. Andrews demanded.

"I don't know," Anne shrugged.

Anne found out on the drive home. "What did you mean, Walter, when you said...your father is dead?"

"Well, he is," Walter said. "Cuz we live with grandma and grandpa. That's what happens when your father is dead: your mama goes back to your grandma and grandpa to live with them and Rosalie told me that. Because Dennis asked me why I don't got no father and I said I dunno and Rosalie said he must be dead 'cuz me and my mama live with my grandpa and grandma and she said that's what her cousin Stacia did when her father died."

Anne's head hurt from Walter's run on sentences and poor grammar. But she didn't know how to answer him, so she didn't.

"He go'd to heaven," Walter decided.

Anne was quiet.

"Mama," Walter pushed. "He go'd to heaven. Rosalie said that's where he go'd when he leaved."

Walter's terrible grammar made Anne shake her head in dismay.

"He _didn't_ go to heaven?" Walter asked, misinterpreting this movement.

Anne came out of her own thoughts and looked down at him. "He's in a better place," she said quietly to comfort him.

And it was true. He was in a place where he could start fresh with no one judging him, so it had to be a better place than she was in.

* * *

Later she told Gilbert. "Walter told his new Sunday School teacher that his father died."

"Where did he get that from?" Gilbert asked, his brow creased.

"Rosalie, Dennis, and some little girl I've never heard of named Stacia," Anne told him.

Gilbert still looked confused. "They don't even know B-" he stopped short, not knowing if hearing the name would worsen the situation. "How could they say he died when they don't even know him?"

"They didn't say _Billy_ died. They said _Walter's father_ died. They think he died because-" Anne plopped down next to him. "Because I live with my _parents_. And they said if your father _didn't_ die then you and your mama would be living with _him_."

"What did you say?" Gilbert asked, concerned.

"I sort of led him on that it was true," Anne said reluctantly. "I didn't know what else to say. I can't explain anything to him, so what could I do?"

"Anne," Gilbert said slowly, his hand reaching for hers, "Have you thought about what you want to tell him, long term?" He took a breath. "Because you could just tell him that...that _we_ are his mother and father."

Anne looked at him with love. "There is nothing I want more in the world than for that to be true."

"But?"

"But," she continued hesitantly, "If he grows up thinking that, he's going to have two questions. And I don't know how to answer either one. The first question he'll have is _Why aren't my mother and father married?_ ...He _knows_ we aren't married, Gilbert! He knows we're _going_ to get married this winter, and that we'll live together once we _do_...but he knows we're not married and that's different from every person he knows. He may not be the brightest candle in the window but he _can_ pick up on _that_."

"What's the second question?"

"What?" Anne asked, thrown off.

"You said he'll have two questions for us. What's the other one?"

Anne looked at him, her eyes empty. "His other question will be _Why did you lie to me?"_

Gilbert breathed out.

"It can't go on forever- He's going to notice that he doesn't _look_ like us- _either_ of us! He's going to notice that his birth date was only fourteen years after mine, and four and half years _before_ our wedding. He's going to notice...whether Mrs. Andrews tells him...or whether someone in town eventually lets on...that he came from _unfortunate circumstances."_

Gilbert nodded slowly. That was all true, and he couldn't pretend it wasn't. He pulled Anne close, running his hand through her hair. "We'll figure it out when we come to it. But I see now that you're right, it won't do to lie to him. He'll only feel betrayed, later."

Anne shut her eyes, feeling cherished in Gilbert's loving embrace. "I wish it was true- that he was yours," she said. "But I love you for wanting him to be."

* * *

Mr. Andrews found his wife crying in the parlor. He asked her what the matter was, more out of duty than a real desire to know, because he suspected that the issue was _that child_, as it nearly always was. And he wasn't wrong:

"I just keep thinking about how the baby was _unwanted_\- Jane told us how unhappy Anne was, how she didn't want him- she even tried to give him _away!-_ and Jane _begged_ us to offer to take him from her. But we said we didn't want a thing to do with that baby-"

"And we still don't," Mr. Andrews put in.

Mrs. Andrews gave him a hard look. But then she crumbled again. "Oh, how I wish we'd listened! We could have offered to take him! She might've given him to _us_…"

"She'd have done nothing of the sort," Mr. Andrews said with a bit of a laugh. "No matter how much she wanted to be rid of it, she wouldn't have given us the satisfaction."

Mrs. Andrews was still crying. "You don't know that. Maybe she'd have given him to _anyone..._anyone who _wanted_ him…"

"But we weren't anyone who wanted him," Mr. Andrews said, and Mrs. Andrews wondered if he couldn't even pretend to comfort her.

"If we _had_ offered and she had let us take him, then all this time he could've been growing up here, with us!" She dabbed her eyes on her handkerchief.

"She'd have wanted him back," Mr. Andrews said offhandedly.

"Perhaps."

"And then you'd be even more unhappy."

Mrs. Andrews didn't say anything.

Mr. Andrews went on: "You'd either have to give him back to her and feel a loss, or refuse to give him back and feud with the Cuthberts over it."

"But because we were willing to _take_ him when she didn't _want_ him, she'd _like_ us. And if she _liked_ us, then she _might've_ said we could share him somehow- we live so very near each other- he could've gone back and forth. But the difference is, he'd have been _here_ and _she'd_ be trying to work something out with _us_."

"Ah, I see: possession is nine-tenths of the law."

"That isn't what I said," Mrs. Andrews.

"But it's what you meant," Mr. Andrews replied. "Whoever has him in their possession is the one who has the most power to decide on arrangements."

"I suppose," Mrs. Andrews admitted. "Oh, Harmon, I wish we could go back and do everything differently. What I wouldn't give. How foolish we were!"

Mr. Andrews held in a sigh, but what his wife said next opened his eyes:

"And now I must live in this constant state of grief, for all my life, with no hope of being comforted."

He looked at his wife, softening a bit as he realized that his despising that baby had become a source of sorrow to his beloved.

He said kindly, "There will be others. As the children get older...Prissy eventually, if she wants to. And Billy's seeing that girl in Nova Scotia- what's her name, Margery? Margeaux? Something like that...darling, we'll have a grandchild _someday_."

"We have a grandchild _now_," Mrs. Andrews said bitterly.

"I mean one that we can be with. And perhaps when you have another little grandchild, you'll stop feeling such a need to see this one."

Mrs. Andrews looked at him, appalled. "Can one child replace another? If we had...if we had lost Prissy to illness as a baby, would having Billy or Jane make us forget Prissy, or love her any less? Oh, Harmon, you don't understand. We could have a _hundred_ grandbabies and I wouldn't stop thinking of our first- not _ever_."

And she began to cry again.

He was defeated.

He did not love the baby, but he did love his wife, dearly, and he could not live with himself if he knew he was causing her pain.

"Maybe things will work out in the end," he finally- reluctantly- said to her.

She stared at him, surprised.

He went on, "We'll brainstorm. Maybe there'll come a way she might let us in."


	199. 2nd new chapt today, I am alive lol

"Mama can I go see Clara? I wanna play."

Anne didn't look up from her writing. She had an upcoming deadline for _Mothering_ and she was already hopelessly behind. "No," she said without further explanation.

"Then can I go see Gilber?"

"Not right now."

"Will you play with me?"

"Walter, _no_. Mama's busy. Play by yourself."

Walter's face screwed up in anger. "I want-"

Anne looked up from her work, exasperated. "Sometimes you don't get what you want."

And then she went back to furiously scribbling away on her boring papers, and Walter, sulking, left her alone.

Walter wandered downstairs. He got Gilbear from where he'd left him on the sofa and carried him into the kitchen. "Grandma," he said sweetly. "Will you play with me?"

"Oh, not right this moment, Walter. Don't you see all these pots and pans? I've a lot of cleaning to do- you occupy yourself for a bit, and when I'm finished we'll play- if there's still time before bed." She wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand, to get the flyaway hair out of her eyes.

Walter was sad. It wasn't even a _real_ promise to play, because it came with an _If_ in it.

"You could help me here in the kitchen," Marilla told him with a smile when she felt him clinging to her skirt.

"But I wanna _plaaaaay_," he whined.

"Why don't you go ask Anne- go ask your mama, see if she'll play with you."

Walter walked away. He went back upstairs to their room. "Mama," he tried again- a new, sneaky idea forming in his mind- "Grandma said you _have_ to play with me."

It was worth a shot, he figured, but mama didn't believe him and only shook her head. "Walter! If everyone's busy then nobody can play. ...Why don't you get your Brownie camera and take pictures, hmm? I bought you a new roll, and it's all ready to go. That'll give you something to do, and I'll play with you later." She was still writing even as she spoke to him.

Walter brightened up a little. He left her to go get his little camera, excited about having new film. He walked all over the house with it, but didn't see anything he wanted to take a picture of. He decided to go outside.

"Gilbear," Walter said brightly to his little bear. "Mama said we can take pictures. Let's go to take pictures of the _ducks_. They're at Gilber's pond." And so Walter wandered away.

Walter knew which direction Gilbert's house was in- because he had so often seen Gilbert heading toward their house _from_ that direction- but he did not know how to get there. So while he started in the right way, he quickly got lost and wandered aimlessly through the fields. At first he found it to be a grand adventure, but after a while the mosquitos stung his knees, he'd stepped in mud far too many times, and he was beginning to get very thirsty.

"Mama," he yelled out, not really understanding that he was so far from home that she couldn't possibly hear him. "Mama!"

He listened and heard only the wind, and then he began to cry.

He trudged on, his Brownie camera smacking him in the chest with every step as it hung from its strap, and clutching Gilbear tightly as the little black bear was his only company in the world.

After a little while the sun seemed to sink lower on the horizon and Walter walked past many pretty things he could have taken pictures of, but he no longer cared about taking pictures, he only wanted to reach Gilber's pond so that he wouldn't be lost anymore.

"Marilla," Anne said, coming down the stairs. "I'm sorry I haven't been a bit helpful to you today. I had an awful time finishing my column. Oh, I had plenty of ideas, but not one thing they asked me for! Isn't that always the way. Well, never mind, I got it done, with one day to spare! I'll have to head to the post office first thing in the morning to get it out, though, or it'll be late. Where's Walter?"

Marilla looked up. "With you. Isn't he?"

Anne stared at her. "I told him he could take pictures with his camera. He took it and went downstairs. I thought he was down here with you."

Marilla stared back. "I haven't seen him since I sent him up to you."

* * *

_Walter!_ was being shouted all over the house and yard, but their shouts only summoned Matthew, who was just coming in from the barn.

When he heard the news, his face went pale and serious and he said, "I'll get the buggy."

* * *

Walter's tears were dry and sticky against his cheeks.

At last the fields seemed to end and he had come out into flat land. He thought at first that he had reached Gilber's house, and was overjoyed, until he realized that this pond wasn't Gilber's pond, and the house near it wasn't Gilber's house. He felt relieved to be _somewhere_, though, and so he went toward the pond with renewed optimism.

At the far end of the pond was an apple tree. He felt awfully hungry and as he could not reach the apples, he picked one up off the ground and bit into it, but it was bad. He spit it out and could have cried from how hungry and thirsty he felt. He decided to drink the water from the pond. He scooted up to the little bank and put his mouth right down into it like the animals did. One little gulp was enough for him, and he felt better. He decided he liked this pond better than Gilber's anyway. It was pretty, and much bigger, and it had a little bridge going from one side to the other, with a summerhouse nearby. The summerhouse was white and screened in to keep out bugs. He decided that he would wait for another apple to fall from the tree so he'd have something to eat, and then he would go to sleep in the summerhouse and find his way to Gilber's in the morning. He decided to take pictures before the sun went down and took the lovely twilight with it. He wondered if he could get one of the lightning bugs that were beginning to come out and dance, but he wisely realized that their blinking could not be picked up by the camera, let alone their movement. He went up to the little bridge, seeing frogs resting on lily pads underneath and thinking it would be fun to take a picture of them from above.

* * *

Mrs. Andrews turned the lamps off in the parlor and then the kitchen, and then went to the back porch to put some tuna out for the old cat Jane had stuck them with only a few days before she left for her teaching job.

As she looked up, she saw a small white figure in the twilight stillness. Creasing her brow, she stepped off the porch to try to see it better. But suddenly the child's figure was gone from the bridge and a great splash was seen below.

Mrs. Andrews' heart fluttered. She started to run toward the pond, but then changed her mind and ran back into the house, calling anxiously for Harmon.

He caught up with her in an instant.

"What is it?" He panted.

"A child! A child's fallen into our pond!" They reached the pond, but the water was completely still. They stared down at it, confused.

But suddenly a tiny hand came up out of the water. Mrs. Andrews screamed.

Mr. Andrews jumped in, clothes and shoes and all, and went under to find the mysterious creature.

It seemed an eternity before Harmon came up out of the water.

Dragging the child onto the bank, he breathed heavily and wiped his wet hair from his eyes.

"Oh, Harmon, is there _breath?" _Mrs. Andrews begged.

He put his ear to the child's chest.

Mrs. Andrews waited.

He did not answer her.

Quickly he turned the still, quiet child over and began pounding on his back. Suddenly there was a great choking as water poured out of the little boys mouth and nose. It seemed to keep coming, in a never ending supply.

"_Walter_," Mrs. Andrews cried, falling to the ground beside him.

Walter was still coughing and sputtering.

When he finally coughed up all that he could, he smiled at Mrs. Andrews with his baby contest-winning smile, and said, "Hi hi."

Mrs. Andrews burst into tears.

* * *

Harmon carried Walter into the house.

"Darling, how did you _get_ here?" Mrs. Andrews asked as she used a dish towel to wipe off his wet face. "Harmon, I've got clean towels in the basket by the stairs."

When Mr. Andrews returned with them, Walter was recounting his tale.

"I wanted to go to Gilber's house and take pictures of the ducks at the pond," he explained.

"Did they tell you you _could?_" Mrs. Andrews begged, upset.

"Mama said I could use my brownie camera to take pictures. So I did."

"But darling, surely she didn't mean for you to go off by yourself!"

"Well she didn't say I _couldn't_," Walter said sensibly.

"Did you _ask_ her? Did anyone _know_ you were going away?"

Walter shrugged.

Mr. Andrews spoke up. "I'll go for the Cuthberts. And for the doctor- just to be sure."

"Oh, everything does work together for good, doesn't it?!" Mrs. Andrews exclaimed. "I thought it such an annoyance when Jane brought home that sorry old cat right before she left us for her teaching job. But if she hadn't, I'd never have been at the back door at that _exact_ moment, and I'd never have seen him fall in!"

"You have a cat? Can I see it? I like cats!" Walter told her.

Mrs. Andrews only response was to hug him tight.

* * *

"I couldn't get them," Harmon said as he came into the house. "They must be out searching for him; their buggy was gone. I didn't want to wait to get the doctor, so I stopped looking for them, but now Dr. Carter's here and I'll go back out- surely I can find them before long."

He didn't wait for a reply and quickly left, leaving Dr. Carter standing in the doorway. Mrs. Andrews rushed to him.

"He was found without breath?" Dr. Carter asked worriedly, coming in.

"I'm not sure exactly," Mrs. Andrews said, leading him up the stairs. "But there was so much water in him, he was coughing and choking for quite a long while. Or at least it felt that way. Maybe it was only a few moments but it felt an _eternity_."

They came to her son's old bedroom, where Mrs. Andrews had wrapped up the little boy in a too-large flannel gown and put him to bed. His wet clothes were hanging over the bathtub down the hall.

"He's asleep," she said pitifully, touching his still-damp hair. "What if he has water in his lungs right now? What if he drowns? I've heard of something called dry-drowning! A child can get water in their lungs and become sleepy and you think you've just put them to bed but they die! Oh, doctor, please-"

Dr. Carter sat by the bed and took his stethoscope out of his black bag to listen to the child's lungs. He looked worried, and Mrs. Andrews hovered as he listened.

* * *

Mr. Andrews met the Cuthberts in their buggy in near darkness and shouted out to them, "We found him! Follow me!"

He turned quickly and waited for their buggy to turn as well before he took off. He could hear Anne sobbing in the distance.

* * *

Anne shoved her way into the house, stumbled up the stairs, nearly tripping, and burst into the bedroom of her enemy. She fell down at the bedside.

Marilla and Matthew were in the room only moments after Anne, having every desire to rush up the stairs like their daughter but lacking the physicality of the eighteen year old.

"Anne, you'll wake him, hush now," Marilla said in an emotionless tone over Anne's sobs. But Marilla's voice was shaking and she clung to the bedpost, her knuckles white.

Matthew let out a heavy breath and lowered himself onto the bed, reaching out to touch Walter's wavy hair.

Dr. Carter re-entered with the Andrews and said nothing for a few moments because he would not have been heard over Anne's upset. "I need to get him home," she sobbed. "Home with me, I should have been watching him, I should have known where he was, oh Dr. Carter can't we wake him? He needs to be _home!"_

"I think he ought not be moved," the doctor said carefully. He regretted to tell Anne his opinion, knowing she would not like Walter being in the house of her attacker, with her attacker's parents. "But you go home and have a rest, Anne," he said kindly. "He'll be just fine. I intend to stay here and sit with him through the night to be sure of his breathing."

"No," Anne said. "I'm not leaving him." She sat beside her child, staring at him as if waiting to be sure she would hear every breath.

Dr. Carter went downstairs to ask Mrs. Andrews if she would be so good as to put some tea on for them all.

Before she did, she went quietly up to her son's bedroom and peeked in. Haltingly, she said, "Uh- I- we could move him into _Jane's_ room. That might be better for you..."

Anne's eyes never left her son. "Dr. Carter said he shouldn't be moved."

"I know, but it's only just down the hall-"

"I'm not moving him." Anne's determined voice was icy, not out of coldness toward Mrs. Andrews, but out of fear.

Mrs. Andrews nodded and left.

* * *

Anne hated herself for falling asleep.

She had sat in the bed next to Walter, staring at him, for most of the night, but during the early hours she must have thought she'd rest her head for just a moment, and when she came to, it was morning.

Dr. Carter smiled softly to her as she lifted her head from the pillow.

"Walt-" she began, still terrified, but as her eyes adjusted she saw that not only was he fine, but he was eating from a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

"I have cookies for breakfast, mama," he said cheerfully.

Anne crumbled. She pulled him to her, making the cookies roll down into the bed clothes.

"Mama, I can't breathe," Walter complained.

Anne let go instantly. "Dr. Carter, he can't _breathe!"_

Dr. Carter tried his best not to sound amused. "I think it was just the squeezing, Anne."

"Oh," Anne said shakily.

"You made my cookies go away," Walter complained, digging a broken cookie out of the bed.

Anne could smell the sweet scent of cookies out of the oven downstairs- the cookies were fresh, and now the warm, gooey chocolate was melted into the crisp white bedsheets.

"I've brought you more, Walter," Mrs. Andrews answered him, coming into the room with a tray.

She set it down in front of Anne. "I made omelets for everyone. And...cookies. I hope you don't mind but I asked him what he wanted to eat and...I'm sure you don't let him have cookies for breakfast but, well, I just thought- just this once-"

Anne shook her head. "That's all right. I'd give him anything he wanted."

And then tears were coming down. "You _all_ must think I'm an awful mother. And I _am! _I didn't notice he'd left the house because I was writing! _I'll never write again!_ I'll stay with him _every minute _and I'll _never_ take my eyes off him!"

Mrs. Andrews had lay awake part of the night feeling angry with Anne- why had she let the child wander through fields and nearly drown in a pond? But now, seeing Anne's distress, she softened.

"You can't see _everything_," she said softly, sitting down by her side. "And accidents do happen. They happen to us all. Miscommunication, too. You told Walter he could take pictures, but you didn't mean for him to leave the house to do it. Now, we're very fortunate here that Walter was saved, but this won't be the last time that you feel like a bad mother. I'm afraid that's a recurring theme throughout your children growing up! There will forever be moments you wish you'd done _something_ differently. There isn't a mother alive who doesn't have regrets..."

She took a breath. "But I'd hate for you to never write again. I hear youre quite talented at it."

Dr. Carter cleared his throat. "Walter seems to be good as new. Thank you for the breakfast, Mrs. Andrews. Anne, you feel free to send for me if you have any worries."

Anne thanked him shakily. Then, taking a deep breath, she addressed Mrs. Andrews: "I'm surprised honestly; I fully expected you to use this as an opportunity to tell me all my faults."

Mrs. Andrews shook her head. "I _am_ sorry, then, to have _been_ someone you would expect to do such a thing. That's not the sort of impression I want to make…"

Nothing was said for a moment, until Walter put down his cookie and said happily, "Now I can finally have a picture of Aunt Jane's Mama."

Anne just looked at him. "You can have anything you want. You just never, ever, _ever_ leave the house without us."

"All right," Walter said agreeably. "I want lots of pictures. I took my…"

And then suddenly there were great tears rolling down his cheeks. "My _camer-ra_. My brownie camera..._it's in the pond!_" And he cried and cried.

Anne leaned close to him, brushing his hair from his eyes. "Now listen, Walter, something very bad could have happened to you. Just be happy that it _didn't_."

But that did not appease him.

"We'll buy you another," Mrs. Andrews said gently, and then with a glance at Anne- "If that's all right?"

Anne could not refuse. "Yes, Walter, you...you can have another."

Walter eventually calmed down, but it was only another moment before he began to cry again. "Gilbear," he sobbed.

Mrs. Andrews did not know what that meant, but she didn't have to wait long for an explanation:

"_Gilbear my bear that Gilber gave meeee…" _Walter continued to cry.

"Oh, Walter, him too?" Anne asked, crushed. That little black bear meant something to _her_. When Gilbert had given it to her baby, it was because he remembered something she'd said, something that _she_ didn't even remember. It was an offhand remark, back when she'd been pregnant: she'd told the story of the three bears out loud and had promised to show the coming little one what a bear looked like.

Gilbert had bought the bear so that Anne could keep her promise to her unborn baby. She was devastated to lose that little bear.

Anne thought she ought to tell Walter that it was all right and not to fuss over it, but she couldn't help her own eyes filling up with unshed tears too. She hastily wiped them away.

Mrs. Andrews, with a glance at her, called out, "Harmon? Harmon?"

He came in.

"Walter's little bear is in the pond. Do you think you might look for it?"

Anne watched. Mr. Andrews did not look exasperated at his wife expecting him to search the water. He just went.

"Where are Matthew and Marilla- have they gone home?" Anne asked.

"Mr. Cuthbert yes- he was up before dawn and went back to Green Gables to get the animals taken care of."

"Up before daw...you mean they stayed here all night?"

She nodded. "We put them up in our girls' rooms. Seeing as this one was full. We thought it...uncharitable not to insist, it was _so_ late and _you_ were staying, after all…"

"Has Marilla gone too?"

"She hasn't woken yet, and I didn't want to wake her. She had so little sleep, and she'd had such a _fright_."

Anne gulped.

"I don't mean that as a criticism of you, Anne," she said kindly. "It was a fright for everyone, _including_ you."

Anne felt her eyes fill yet again.

"Stop crying, mama," Walter said suddenly noticing. "Have a cookie."

Anne suddenly laughed aloud, despite her tears. She took the cookie Walter held out.

"We've gotten the bed all messy," Anne said with dismay, trying to wipe the crumbs from the sheets.

And then she noticed what she was doing, and she shrank back. She stood up quickly, but stared at the bed as if she didn't know what to do.

Her baby was in that bed.

And she _herself_ had _slept_ in it. She'd slept in it, with her _face_ right on that _pillow_.

Her only thought was that all the soap in the world would not be enough to clean her face from resting on that pillow.

Mrs. Andrews knew what the problem was immediately. "They haven't been _used_, Anne- the sheets. No one's slept on them."

It didn't matter.

"I wish you'd let me change him to Jane's room," she said hesitantly. "Miss Cuthbert is in Prissy's. Oh, I wish I hadn't put him in _here_ at all! But...when I brought him upstairs I wasn't..."

Anne waited.

"I mean, it was not a _decision_, Anne, truly it wasn't something I _decided_, I just _naturally_ brought him here, and I-"

She trailed off.

Anne was still staring at her son in that bed. Finally Anne whispered, "It felt natural to bring him right into this room, without any thought, because he looks exactly like he belongs here."

Mrs. Andrews also looked at Walter in the bed. Walter had never looked more like her own son than he did right now.

Anne shook herself out of her trance. "We need to go. We need to go _right now._ I hate to wake Marilla, but we have to leave."

Mrs. Andrews only nodded, having no words.

"Mama I don't _wanna_ go. I wanna stay here. And I want my Gilbear."

"We'll try very hard to find him, Walter," Mrs. Andrews said softly. "And bring him _to_ you. And perhaps another can be brought-"

She glanced at Anne. Anne moved Walter's plate of cookies and lifted him from the bed. "We can't be here," she said quietly. "We need to go home."

Walter began to cry again. He reached out to Mrs. Andrews as if she could somehow save him from mama making him leave.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Andrews said humbly, stepping back to give Anne and Walter more room to get by.

"Look!" Walter shouted as Anne passed by the window. "Look! Look! Look!"

Anne turned to the window as did Mrs. Andrews and they saw Harmon struggling out of the deep part of the pond, clothes rumpled and soaked, his legs caked in mud, his hair dripping. In his hand was Gilbear.

Anne turned to find Mrs. Andrews overcome with emotion.

"I'm just so happy," she said when Anne looked at her questioningly. "I couldn't think of him losing his little bear…" She almost reached out to touch Walter's blonde waves, but Anne could tell the very moment she decided to refrain.

Anne sighed. She set Walter down. "Why don't you go get your bear, Walter. Remember to say thank you."

Walter did not wait for Mr. Andrews to come into the house. In as little as five seconds he was down the stairs and running outdoors, tripping in the too-big nightgown. Anne watched from the window above as Walter threw himself at Mr. Andrews.

Mr. Andrews handed Gilbear down to him, and Walter bounced all around him, jumping up and down. But after a moment he stopped and hugged Mr. Andrews. Mr. Andrews seemed stunned for a moment, but slowly accepted him.

Anne watched as they had some short conversation, and then they began to walk back toward the house. But Walter pulled on Mr. Andrews shirttails, wanting to be picked up, and Mr. Andrews obliged.


	200. Realizations from Both Sides

Marilla woke up to a gentle knock. "Yes?" she responded, sitting up. "Just a moment, please!"

She got out of the bed that had been provided for her and set to work washing and dressing herself.

She was not overly anxious about her grandbaby anymore; she had woken in the early morning hours to go check on him and had found Anne asleep next to Walter in bed, and Dr. Carter, sitting with them, had told her he was quite certain now that Walter was well and truly out of danger.

She made the bed neatly and folded the nightgown she had not used. Mrs. Andrews had put the nightgown in the room for her when she'd put the fresh water pitcher in. But Marilla chose to sleep in her underthings rather than wear what Mrs. Andrews had offered. Once she'd washed her face and gotten her clothes back on, she smoothed over her hair as best she could- she'd never taken it down out it's bun the night before- and then she went to open the door. She saw that a tray had been set on the chair just outside her door. No one was about so she took the tray back into her room and set it on the dresser. She ate the omelette quickly- she felt faint and had to have something to keep her going- and then she left the room, taking the tray downstairs.

"Mrs. Andrews," she said entering the kitchen.

Mrs. Andrews turned to her. "I hope the knock on the door wasn't an annoyance. I hated to wake you; if anyone deserved a good rest after last night it was you! But Mr. Cuthbert has just come back and Anne has said she wants to go, so…"

"Anne wants to go, yes, I expect she must. I'm sorry to have slept so long. I'll run up and get her now."

Mrs. Andrews nodded.

"Anne, are you ready?" Marilla asked, coming into the room.

Anne was brushing off the flannel nightie Mrs. Andrews had put Walter in. The left side of it was damp with dirty water.

"Oh, how did he get dirty again?" Marilla asked in dismay.

"He ran out to the pond and-"

"Walter, you didn't!" Marilla scolded.

"I told him to," Anne explained. "Mr. Andrews was fishing Gilbear out of the pond and I told Walter to go get it from him."

"I see," Marilla said with a weary sigh. She came to Walter and held him to her, dirty water and all. "You didn't get near the water though, did you? Why are you so damp?"

"I did this," Walter said, lifting his arms up. "Cuz I wanted to be picked up. Aunt Jane's papa carried me." Marilla raised her eyebrows, thinking it unlikely that Mr. Andrews wanted to look at Walter, let alone have physical contact with him.

"I suppose he'll have to ride home in it," Anne said reluctantly. "His clothes are still too wet. They're also dirty, but then, so is this now. Mrs. Andrews offered to wash his clothes but I told her I'd do it at home."

Marilla, concerned, asked, "How are you doing, Anne?"

Anne lifted her shoulders. "I kept thinking all night what if I lost him…" Tears sprang to her eyes.

"I _was _lost, mama," Walter reminded.

Anne squeezed him. "That wasn't what I meant."

"Do we have to go home? I like it here."

"Yes, we have to go home."

"Let's come back tomorrow," Walter suggested.

"Just because somebody gives you presents and lets you eat cookies in bed it doesn't mean they're a nice person."

Walter made a face. "You _never_ let me see Aunt Jane's _mamaaaa_."

"Walter, why do you have to _like_ her so much?" Anne asked, becoming frustrated. "Gifts don't-"

"She loves me and you're mean!" Walter said adamantly.

"Has she _told _you she loves you," Anne began, not particularly liking that Mrs. Andrews may have said that to him when she didn't even want her in his life in the first place.

"She don't have to say it," Walter said stoutly. "Cuz I can see her eyeballs."

Anne rolled her own eyes. "What does _that_ mean?"

"When somebody loves you, you _see_ it in their _eyeballs_."

Anne stared at him, a memory flashing across her mind:

_Marilla was talking about all the things I'd need for the baby, and that she and Matthew would get them for me… "And here I was worrying they'd turn me out of their house!" she'd told Gilbert._

_"I always knew they wouldn't," Gilbert said, reaching over and patting her hand. "They love you. I can see it in their eyes."_

_"You really think if you love someone, people can see it in your eyes?" Anne wondered._

_Gilbert nodded. "I think so."_

_Anne found herself suddenly turning away- she didn't want him to look her in the eye._

But she was brought back to the present by Walter stamping his feet and shouting at her. "You're so _mean, mama! You never let me-"_

"Walter, that is _enough!_" Marilla stepped in. "Let's go."

She took him firmly by the hand and walked with him downstairs, Anne following behind.

"We'll be leaving now," Marilla said calmly to Mrs. Andrews.

She just nodded again, as if afraid to say anything to them.

Anne said stiffly, "I'm...I'm very relieved you were here. ...Thank you."

She could have said a lot more, but she said nothing. Despite being eternally grateful her child was saved, she was wildly uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than to get her son out of this house and away from Mrs. Andrews.

* * *

Anne felt dirty on the ride home.

"We'll do our laundry early," Marilla promised. She hated that Anne had been wearing one of her favorite outfits to sleep on that bed. "It needn't be so bad, Anne, she _did_ say no one had slept on those sheets."

"It doesn't _matter_," Anne told her, and though it was summertime, she shivered. "And we're not keeping that," she said gesturing down to the nightie Walter was still wearing.

Once home, Anne saw her envelope to _Mothering_ still sitting in the hall. "Oh, _no_," she wailed. "I was nearly late with it anyway- I had to get it out first thing this morning for it not to be overdue...what they'll think of me, I don't know. I guess I'd better ride to the post office right this very minute. ...I hope they won't fire me."

Marilla was brisk. "Of course they won't fire you. You've made yourself quite popular. Leave that envelope, Matthew or I will go for you."

"No, _I'll_ go, I don't need to have anyone else picking up after me!" She said, dismayed with herself. "Walter, come on, let's go."

"Leave him home, Anne," Marilla suggested. "I'm sure you don't want him out of your sight now, but he isn't even properly dressed."

Anne's shoulders dropped. "All right," she agreed. She leaned down to look her son in the eye. "You stay in the house," she said seriously. "If you run off, you'll be in a lot of trouble. Do you understand?"

Walter nodded, his eyes serious.

Anne left.

* * *

When Matthew came in, Walter was sitting on the parlor floor with his little stack of books, still in the big flannel nightgown.

"She'll want a bath, I'm sure, after spending the night there," Marilla said to Matthew, dragging the tub out. "I'll get Walter one while she's in town so that she can have hers as soon as she gets home."

Matthew glanced over at Walter, who was holding his book upside down. "How'd he get dirty again?"

Marilla told Matthew, "Mr. Andrews picked him up. After fishing Gilbear out of the pond. ...When I told Walter he'd have to have a bath, he told me he didn't need one because he went swimming! I said, Walter, you did _not_ go swimming, you fell _in_ and _nearly drowned!_ I asked him if there was soap in the pond because if there wasn't then he didn't wash. I don't know why children don't want to wash. I could let myself soak in a hot tub for an hour if I didn't consider it a luxury that would waste precious time in a workday!"

Anne returned from town in a short while and was glad to find a bathtub ready.

She was even happier to find that Walter had already had a bath while she'd been out, because as much as she wanted to love on him after their scare, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was now contaminated.

After a nice long soak in the tub, Anne felt that things had been made right, and she sighed a sigh of relief.

Marilla insisted Anne get a little rest, but Anne could not rest without Walter by her side.

When she passed by the little gable room with her laundry basket, she saw Walter was snuggled into the covers with Anne. The two looked wonderfully cozy- freshly scrubbed and in their nightclothes, their hair still damp. They were moving their hands and chanting something. She paused to listen-

_The itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the water spout. Down came the rain…_

Marilla smiled.

She went outdoors to where a drippy Gilbear was hanging by his ears on the clothesline.

* * *

Mrs. Andrews came in from hanging her own laundry on the line and found her husband with the morning newspaper.

He was looking rather dejected, the paper lowered and his gaze turned to the window instead.

"Have the stocks gone down?" Mrs. Andrews queried.

"Oh," he said, his attention turning to her. "No. I was just- just thinking."

"What about?

"That boy- Walter. He's a rather nice little fellow."

"He always has been," Mrs. Andrews told him.

Mr. Andrews pointed out, "I'd never actually _spoken_ to him before."

"He's lovely."

"I suppose, my dear, that if you think we ought...that is to say, if you still want-"

"Oh! I might've _known_ it would happen this way," Mrs. Andrews interrupted, crushed. "_Now_ you want to!"

"What is it?" Mr. Andrews asked, quickly reaching out to hold her as she crumbled.

"Of course you must like him _now- _now that we mustn't see him anymore!" she gasped, bitter.

Mr. Andrews was confused. "What are you talking about, love? Has she said something to you?"

Mrs. Andrews shook her head, trying to get a hold of herself.

Mr. Andrews pressed, "Don't you think what happened last night might've brought us all _together? _That now she'll let us _in?"_

Mrs. Andrews shook her head. "I don't think so, but...I know I've got to stop _trying_."

And she wept as if her heart was broken.

Mr. Andrews just stared at her.

"You see, I didn't _know_," she breathed, shaking her head. "Of course it was a terrible thing Billy did, I understood, but I couldn't...I couldn't _see_ him from _her_ perspective. I always thought she ought to have moved past it more quickly!"

Mr. Andrews waited for her to explain.

"But standing there, looking at that bed, Harmon, it was like she'd been hit by a _train_. I wasn't sure she was all there. She looked _ill_. And then a great _shudder_ escaped her and she scooped Walter up and said she had to get him out of here. She couldn't get away from us fast enough!"

"I understand, but surely we can-"

"No, you _don't_ understand, Harmon, and _I_ didn't either! When I saw her this morning, having to even _touch_ the very bed that he lay on-" her voice broke- "_Billy didn't hurt her once, Harmon. _He's _still_ causing her hurt even today! Every _mention_ of him, every _trace_ of him...it brings it all back! No wonder she can't stand the sight of us- _we_ _raised him!"_

"But darling she can understand that _we_ don't mean to hurt her. We only want to know our _grandchild_. And that _we_ don't _condone-_"

But Mrs. Andrews shook her head, wiped her eyes, and stood up. "The most important person in his life is his mother. And if we care about him, then we must care about her."

"Well, we could _give_ her something," Harmon was already thinking of what the Cuthberts' might be in need of.

"No, Harmon," Mrs. Andrews interrupted softly. "This is a time we can do the most by doing nothing."

"But then how will we get her to agree to give us _time?" _Mr. Andrews asked.

"We won't," Mrs. Andrews responded.

Her husband was staring at her.

"And I can't believe I ever _expected_ her to! As if my desire to see him had any importance in the matter!" She sighed, and a weariness came over her. "I believe I'll go have a bit of a lie-down. I can't face the day, now."

Harmon went to her, arms outstretched. "You mustn't have to live with such unhappiness…"

Mrs. Andrews struggled to keep her tears in, afraid that if she continued to let them come, they'd never stop. "I _must_," she said to him. "That is the way it _must_ be."

She turned back at the stairs.

"Please don't speak any more about him, Harmon. ...If I have to hear his name, it will only hurt more."

* * *

Anne lay in her bed, staring at her sleeping little boy, from his fluttery eyelashes resting on his cheeks, to his mouth which was currently turned up into a smirk she did not appreciate.

She turned her gaze toward his nose, instead, remembering that when he was a baby she often stared at his nose because she was too afraid to look into his eyes.

Suddenly she pulled him nearer, and his face was blocked from view as she pressed his little body to her. _He is mine, and mine only, and he has been mine for four long years- no, longer than that- for nine months first, and then four years- and he can think I'm a mean mama all he wants to, but he's alive to think it. And that's all that matters right now. He didn't drown in the pond. He's alive. _

She marveled in the realization that as unhappy as she'd been to have him in the first place, she now felt she'd rather die than lose him.

_I'm grateful to the Andrews for saving him, and that's all right- they did a good thing, after all. But one good deed doesn't erase the fact that they're…_

And then she felt conflicted. Could she hate the parents for their loyalty to their son? She tried to imagine how she'd feel if Walter ever did something truly awful. _I know he won't do what Billy did, but suppose he...suppose he robbed a stagecoach. What would I do? Could I still love him after that? _

As she stared at him, and thought about how close she'd come to losing him last night, she felt strongly that there was nothing he could do that would make her stop loving him.

_I'd expect him to be held accountable for his crimes, that's a given, and I wouldn't let him weasel out of taking responsibility, but- but stop loving him? Never._

She finally settled on understanding that the Andrews loved their children as she loved hers- _but they still should've done more to hold him accountable_, she thought. _They sent him away, yes, and they tried to provide for me, but...it took them an awfully long time to stop treating me like a pariah!_

Her thoughts turned to their son. Could she even hate Billy anymore, knowing now that she'd give anything to have the baby in her life today? She shook her head. _No, _she decided, _I can still hate Billy. He did a lot of other things, too. He hurt me, and he made it so I couldn't go to school, and he made me hate the fall...and I used to so love the fall...there are so many reasons to hate Billy- Walter isn't one of them. Walter isn't a thing to be blamed on anyone. In fact, he's the only good thing to come out of this whole dreadful situation. _

Walter let out a contented little noise that reminded Anne of the way he'd sighed when he was a baby and she had finally- reluctantly- snuggled him.

She whispered aloud, "Why, if I hadn't had you, I'd always wonder why this terrible thing had to happen to me at all. But because I had _you_, I can- I can pretend- I can _imagine-_ that it all had a _purpose..._I like to imagine grand, divine purposes, Walter. Perhaps the great universe around me just needed you in it, so it managed to get you here _somehow_. ...I admit I feel rather jilted that its plan was carried out at _my_ expense. ...But someday you'll do wonderful things in the world, and then I'll understand why you had to be here."

When Anne went downstairs, she relayed her feelings to Marilla. She finished with, "I _do_ believe people can _change_, Marilla. And I _do_ believe Walter when he says he thinks they _love_ him. But he also doesn't understand the...the _history_ here."

Marilla stopped peeling potatoes and sat down beside Anne.

"Let me tell you about my Great Aunt Mae."

Anne waited for her to begin.

"When I was a little girl, I had a great aunt who was- as _she_ put it, 'old as the hills'. She was my grandmothers' oldest sister. She had fine white hair she braided and wrapped round her head like a crown. She used to wear flowers in it- real ones, from her garden. It's ridiculously foolish, but as a little girl I found it rather fanciful. She was a lovely person, though. She always had a smile on her face and warm cookies baking in her kitchen. She…" Marilla trailed off, then looked over at Anne. "Anyway," she went on, "When I was very little, not much older than Walter, I saw Great Aunt Mae quite often. But as I grew up something happened, something I didn't know the cause of. My mother and father stopped associating with her and her grown children and grandchildren. There had been a rift in the family."

Anne's eyes widened. "Did you ever find out why?"

Marilla shook her head. "I never did. No one would tell the children then, and when we weren't children anymore, well, by that time it was considered unmentionable. We were expected to act as if that side of the family simply didn't exist. Oh, it must have been something very grave- perhaps an extramarital affair or the like. I can't imagine we would have cut all ties if it hadn't been an _ordeal_."

"Do you think your Aunt Mae had an affair?" Anne asked, her eyes wide.

"I don't know that _anyone_ had an affair, Anne- I just can't think of a serious enough reason for the split! But no, I doubt very much Great Aunt Mae was gallivanting around with men. I would think perhaps one of her children or grandchildren had committed an act and she, naturally, would defend them, while the rest of the relations wouldn't."

She went on, "When I was very young I didn't understand; all _I_ knew was that Aunt Mae had been taken away from me. But when I was _grown_, Anne, _then_ I realized...I realized that some problems adults have with each other are big enough that fences are _never_ mended and it's easier to go separate ways and not try to force together what isn't meant to be. I don't think it's..._right_, exactly, but it's very often the truth."

Anne stared at her. "Marilla, what was the point of this story?"

Marilla looked up at her, startled, but she quickly saw that Anne's exclamation was not impertinence.

"The _point_, Anne, is that Walter isn't old enough to understand why you're keeping him from the Andrews and so of course he feels angry with you over it- just like I couldn't understand why I was kept from aunt Mae and it upset me! But _someday_, when he is grown _up_, he will _realize-_ just like _I_ did- that there must have been some _reason_ for the separation, and he'll accept that sometimes this is just…just the way things _are_ between adults, and that- while unfortunate- it was what you thought was best for everyone. ...What did you mean, what was the _point _of the story?"

Anne sighed and looked her in the eye. "Because it sounds to me like it was a story about a sad little girl who was kept away from an aunt who loved her, all because of grown up problems that had nothing to do with her."

Marilla took a breath. "Oh. Well...yes, I can see why you'd see it that way. I suppose."

Anne rested her chin on her hands.

"Are you considering allowing them involvement?"

"I...I don't know. I think so. ...Maybe."

Marilla nodded slowly. Then she said, "Well, it doesn't have to be an all-or-nothing type of thing, you know. You're well within your rights to set limitations on what kind of contact you'll allow and even how often they can see him."

"Yes," Anne wholeheartedly agreed. "There will be _conditions_. I don't know what they'll be, yet, but there will absolutely have to be conditions."


	201. A Fragile Mend

I know everyone's missing Gilbert, I just have to get this decision about the Andrews settled first! In this chapter Anne makes a decision and talks to them about it. I promise wedding planning is coming soon.

* * *

Mrs. Andrews did not expect to see Anne at her front door. She was flustered for a moment when Anne asked, "Could I come in and speak to you?"

Mrs. Andrews led her into the parlor. "I know why you're here," she said quietly.

"You do?" Anne asked.

They sat down.

Mrs. Andrews' voice shook and she struggled to let the words out: "We won't disturb you again, Anne. Unless- unless you ever have some _need-_ financial or otherwise- we would consider it a privilege if you would allow us to help. But otherwise, you won't hear from us." Her hands were folded in her lap, her face resigned.

Anne was confused. "You've...changed your mind about wanting him..." She'd never _wanted_ Mrs. Andrews in Walter's life before, but she was fully prepared to be offended if they'd decided they _didn't_ want him now.

"We haven't changed our minds about Walter," Mrs. Andrews said with a sad smile. "We've only changed our minds about…infiltrating your life. We want you to have a _peaceful_ life, Anne. And yesterday, after seeing you having to be in our home, and- well, I just felt that by pushing my way into Walter's life, I was forcing you to relive things you ought not have to _relive_. I'm sorry for that. Truly."

Anne stared at her. "So...you aren't going to try to see him anymore?"

Mrs. Andrews looked, to Anne, like she was in the depths of despair, but she said nothing, only shaking her head.

Anne sat there so long that Mrs. Andrews felt she was being rude by not getting up and offering her tea.

Anne finally came out of her silence. "Oh, no thank you. I only came to...to find out things."

Mrs. Andrews sat back down.

There was something bothering Anne; something in the back of her mind nagging at her, and she could not move forward without bringing it to the surface.

"Billy's never come back into town, has he? I know he's been here; Jane's _warned_ me- uh, _told_ me- when he's visiting- but he doesn't seem to go into _town_," Anne commented finally. "And I'm glad."

"He doesn't need to go into town while he's here. He just stays home with us for a few days and then he goes back. His life's all settled in Nova Scotia now, and Avonlea isn't his home anymore."

"How convenient," Anne said. She was glad that the Andrews had sent Billy away; she couldn't imagine how she'd cope if she had to see him here in town, or if she had to raise Walter with Billy nearby. Even so, she _still_ found herself irritated that _he'd_ been able to start anew and she had not.

"He should be finished with school now. Does he have plans?" Anne asked. _Does he have plans that involve moving anywhere near my hometown or interacting in any way with people I know?_

"He's at university," Mrs. Andrews told her.

Anne raised her eyebrows. "And how did he manage that?" She knew she sounded terribly rude, implying to a mother that her son was not smart enough to move ahead in school, but she did not care.

"He's really buckled down in the past few years," Mrs. Andrews told her lamely. _That, and the fact that when one's parents become benefactors of a school..._

"Motivation can do wonders, Mrs. Andrews, but it cannot entirely make up for poor intellect." Anne was thinking of her own son now, and how she already suspected he would not do well in school. She finally asked, "What kind of career does he intend to pursue?"

"He wants to become a lawyer," Mrs. Andrews said.

Anne almost laughed. "He'll be the kind that defends the guilty, I presume."

Mrs. Andrews was upset, but did not answer back.

"Is he seeing anyone?" Anne asked. She did not want to know the details of Billy's life, but she felt she must.

"Yes, he is."

"Is it serious?"

"It seems to be, yes."

"Do you think he'll get married?" Anne asked.

"…I would assume so, at some point…"

"Will she _know?_ About _this? _And about Walter?" Anne asked.

Mrs. Andrews bit her lip.

"Doesn't anyone think it's _important?_ Doesn't anyone think _he_ is important?" Anne asked a bit harshly.

Instead of answering the question, she just said, "I haven't pressed him- it's his life. It's his marriage. Whatever he tells her, it's his decision."

"Yes, he _is_ the one who's able to make decisions, isn't he?" Anne asked coldly. "He decided he'd have intimate relations, _I_ didn't decide to have them. He got to decide he didn't want to be a father, _I_ didn't get to decide if _I_ wanted to be a mother. And now he gets to decide whether or not people should know he has a child."

Anne said then, "If I were marrying a man, and he had a child with another woman, I would want to _know_. Wouldn't _you_ want to know, Mrs. Andrews, if Mr. Andrews had a child with someone else before he met you?"

"Well- yes, yes, I would," Mrs. Andrews admitted.

Then Anne had another thought. "I'd _also _want to know, before marrying him, that he had such a propensity toward violence- especially sexual violence."

Mrs. Andrews was startled by her graphic expression.

"I don't mince words, Mrs. Andrews," Anne said coldly. "And I hope, for her sake, that he treats her better than he treated me. Otherwise she's going to suffer a painful existence with him."

Mrs. Andrews didn't know what to say.

Anne took a breath, trying to calm herself.

There was a deafening silence until Mrs. Andrews broke it by clearing her throat and faltering, "Uh- I hear...there's to be a wedding?"

Anne did not expect news in a small town to stay hidden for long.

"Gilbert?" she questioned.

Anne just nodded, solemn.

"That's good. That's nice to hear- Gilbert is a nice boy. I always used to tell Billy he ought to be more like-"

Mrs. Andrews stopped, a few tears slipping out. She brought her hand to her mouth.

Anne sat, uncomfortable, saying nothing. She felt she was not in a position to be comforting someone who'd raised the person who'd attacked her.

When it seemed the moment had passed, Anne went on. "Truthfully Mrs. Andrews, the reason I came today...since the events of yesterday, I was considering granting Walter the freedom to see you after all."

"_Really?"_ Mrs. Andrews asked, her voice fragile with hope.

"Yes. But I'm not sure yet."

There was a silence.

"Oh," Mrs. Andrews said slowly, "Uh...well...thank you for considering it."

Anne nodded.

After another moment of quiet, Anne stood up to go.

Mrs. Andrews didn't know how to take this, and she didn't understand how they were leaving it. She followed Anne to the front door. "So…"

Anne turned back to her.

"When will we know?" Mrs. Andrews asked, hoping she could ask without pushing Anne away.

"I have to think about it," Anne said. "I was going to tell you today. But now I need to think some more. ...Maybe I'll come back tomorrow."

She turned to go.

"Oh, wait- Anne!" Mrs. Andrews said suddenly. "When Walter was here he tried Cracker Jacks and he liked them- may I send the box home with you? In case he wants more? It's all right if you don't…"

Anne shrugged. "Well, if he really wanted them badly, I suppose I'll let him."

Mrs. Andrews came back. "There's meant to be a surprise inside," she said with a bit of a laugh. "I don't know what it is; you have to finish the box to get down to it."

"That's interesting," was all Anne replied, and then she left, with Mrs. Andrews staring after her.

* * *

Anne returned the following day.

Mr. Andrews seemed as hungry for her words as Mrs. Andrews.

Anne was startled by the remarkable change in him. He had seemed so disdainful of her before; now he seemed to be clinging to every word she said.

And he was- he was right alongside his wife in wanting a share of Walter, and he'd stayed home from work today simply because Anne had said she might come by.

Anne had thought hard about what she wanted to impart.

"Having a child in this particular way has taught me something. It's made me understand how it is possible to have enormous love for your child no matter what the circumstances, even when it's _difficult_." She took a breath. "So I understand why you love _yours_ no matter what, too. I don't expect you to cut off your son, but I _do_ expect that you will keep your relationship with him entirely separate from your relationship with Walter."

They nodded.

"And by that I mean you are not to give him any information about Walter. I don't imagine he has any _interest_ in Walter, but _should_ he at any point, you'll have to tell him that your relationship with Walter is dependent on your ability to keep it _confidential_. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Mrs. Andrews said without hesitation. Anne watched her face for any sign of deceit, and then she started anew:

"If I find at any time that you have told him _anything_, that will be the end of your contact with Walter."

She thought a moment. "I also want to be warned if Billy will be visiting you. Walter can't come over if he's here."

"Another thing...I'm sure it has not escaped your notice that Walter bears an uncanny resemblance to Billy. Well, I know this, and I don't need to be reminded of it! If you begin making remarks about Walter looking like Billy, I'm not going to feel very kindly toward you."

She knew Mrs. Andrews didn't like this- after all, the reason she was so drawn to Walter was his resemblance to her son. She went on: "Now, I expect you might slip up from time to time and I won't be unreasonable about it, but if it is a recurring issue then we might just be done with this relationship."

Anne took a breath. "Furthermore, you're not to have any photographs of Walter in this house. You may remember, Mrs. Andrews, that you sending Walter's photograph to your son is what resulted in you being cut off from all contact two years ago. I am giving you a second chance. I don't give thirds."

Mrs. Andrews nodded breathlessly.

"As for your gifts- the amount you've spent. On the one hand, I want him to have nice things. On the other hand, I don't want him to like you just because he gets gifts from you- it comes across as buying his loyalties. You can give him things if you want to, but, that camera cost two dollars, and I don't think it's appropriate for him to have extravagant, expensive gifts when he's just four years old. If you decide to buy him something it ought to be under a dollar. _If_ there's ever to be extravagance, it ought to be when he's old enough to appreciate it and not be spoiled by it."

"Does that mean you won't take the camera after all?" Mr. Andrews asked sadly, thinking of how Walter's first one had been ruined.

"Well, no," Anne admitted. "We've already told him he can have it, so I won't go back on it. But...future gifts is what I mean."

"All right," Mr. Andrews nodded.

"When Walter wanted that box of Cracker Jacks, it hit me that any package of food in your house may have been eaten from by Billy. ...If, say, he was visiting you and happened to be eating from _that very box_...you're going to have to get a separate box for Walter because I don't want him eating out of the same one Billy had his hands in! It sounds _ridiculous_ and I know it _is_ ridiculous, but that's the way I feel."

"We'll do anything," Mrs. Andrews said softly.

Mr. Andrews nodded, reaching for his wife's hand.

"Very well. But _all_ of it- _all of it_ is something you believe you could adhere to?"

"Yes, yes of course," Mrs. Andrews said in a desperate gasp.

"I'm glad. I would hate to have to cut you off, because it would hurt Walter _enormously_ to lose you. But that is on _your_ shoulders, not mine- you must keep in mind that you are choosing whether to keep Walter in your life or have him cut off from you."

And because this is all new, and I consider it...probationary, there will be no unsupervised contact. When you talk to him it will be in the presence of one of us. No exceptions."

Anne thought she'd covered all she wanted to, and then said, "I believe I'd feel better about this if it was in _writing_. I'm going to get this all down on paper. Twice- once for each of us. That way you won't be able to later claim that you didn't know or you didn't remember."

The Andrews thought Anne seemed angry, but then she took a breath and smiled. "Now if we are all _clear_, then that's settled. I hope we won't have to talk about this again. Walter keeps asking for a photograph of you. Would you mind if I got one now to take home to him?"

* * *

Mrs. Andrews received a letter the next evening.

There was a question in the letter about the near-drowning, about how it had happened and what was done about it afterward.

But instead of answering the questions, Mrs. Andrews wrote, _The important thing is that he is all right. But I'm not able to discuss him with you anymore._


	202. To Be Like Everybody Else

"There's only seven pictures," Walter said.

After Anne didn't respond he tried again: "There's only seven pictures, mama."

Anne looked at the camera. She did not want to spoil her surprise of what the first picture would be. She shrugged. "Well, then I suppose you only have seven."

"But why-"

"Why do you always have a question about _everything?" _Anne asked. Marilla could not keep herself from smiling, amused that the tides had turned- _Anne_ was exasperated by questions!

But Anne was only exasperated by the question because she did not want him to spoil the surprise.

She said, "Go on with it. Take some pictures quickly and we'll go have them developed."

* * *

Instead of dropping off the film and picking it up later, they waited in town for it to be finished. Anne wanted Walter to see the gift she was giving him, that would appear as picture number one on that roll.

"Can we buy jelly beans?" Walter asked suddenly as they strolled down the street. Anne was about to say no when he continued, "I want to bring Clara jellybeans for a present."

Anne smiled. "All right," she said cheerfully. "Jellybeans it is."

In the store Walter was very selective about his jellybeans.

"Can we give them to her right now?" he asked when he had chosen just the right ones.

Anne considered it. "We have time. Let's go."

Walter skipped along happily squeezing the jellybeans tight.

Emily welcomed them in. When she saw the jellybeans she laughed. "Oh, you wouldn't believe- Clara, come here. Bring your pictures with you."

Anne did not know what was so funny until little Clara explained her piece of paper with the blue lump on it: "It's a _jellybean_."

"Apparently jellybeans are very amusing, after the birthday party," Emily said good naturedly.

It took Anne a moment to remember that Walter, on his birthday, had begun pulling jellybeans right off the cake and handing them to Clara, both of them giggling at their minor theft.

Now Walter held his gift out to Clara, suddenly shy.

Clara took the little bag and gave him her jellybean picture, also pink cheeked for some reason.

Then she laughed. Once she started, Walter joined in. "Jellybeans!" They said amid their laughter. They escaped into the parlor together.

Anne and Emily followed. "How did she make the colors?" Anne asked, curious. "It doesn't look like pencil or paint."

"It's wax," Emily explained. She picked up the empty package to show Anne. "Sticks of it."

Clara was showing Walter the two other pictures she'd made, also of jellybeans, but in different colors.

"How much do they cost?" Anne asked, seeing Walter begin coloring on paper with her.

"A nickel for the eight pack," Emily said. "There are bigger boxes, but I can't imagine why they'd need so many colors."

_Anne_ could imagine why. She considered herself a writer, not an artist, but she was already itching to make pictures with all the different colors. She wondered if you could blend them, one into another, until you'd made a vibrant rainbow.

After a little while Anne said they had better go, and called Walter.

"Walter, we'll have to get _you_ some of those- those crayons," she promised, more for herself than for him.

"I already have some," Walter said. Anne looked down at her son. His fist was full of broken crayons.

"Oh, no," Anne breathed. "Walter, you…"

She glanced quickly at Emily, worried she'd be upset that every single crayon had been snapped in half.

But Emily was smiling.

"_I_ broke them, mama," Clara announced with a proud smile. "Now we _both_ have crayons!"

* * *

After leaving Emily's house, Walter skipped along happily with his picture of a jellybean that Clara had drawn for him. His fistful of broken crayons was in Anne's purse. Anne had promised Emily that she too would buy crayons and they'd switch- give Clara the new ones since hers had all been broken.

They went to pick up the film.

Walter said, "Mama can we go back real quick so I can show Clara my pictures? I already told her we'd come back. And can I have another new roll because I didn't get any of Clara."

Anne smiled. She _would_ like to get one of Walter and Clara together. They looked awfully sweet. When she paid for the developed film, she bought him another roll.

When they returned to Emily's, Walter bounced around, excited. "I got a new roll, Clara!"

"We're having rolls with our dinner," Clara told him. "With butter and jam. And lima beans and beef."

Anne spoke up before Walter could invite himself to dinner. "He means a roll of film. For taking pictures. Walter wanted to know if he could have one of Clara?"

Emily smiled. "What a nice idea."

Clara said, "I have to go change my clothes."

Emily laughed. "I've started putting in rags every night to make curls. She's become very aware of her appearance lately."

Clara reappeared in a fluffy, flouncy lavender dress with lace on the collar and cuffs. She paused at the landing. "Maybe I should've put on my yellow…"

"Colors don't show, Clara," Emily called up to her. "Come down now, you're keeping us waiting."

Clara came down. She made a great show of deciding where she would look the best. She made Walter take three or four pictures of her before Emily finally stepped in and told the children they ought to have a picture together.

After she took it, Clara began looking at herself in the mirror. "I should have put on a bigger bow," she said regretfully. "I could have looked prettier."

"It must be nice to have a _boy_," Emily said quietly to Anne with a laugh. "But maybe the next one."

Anne stared at her a moment. Emily smiled, a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, Emily, really?" Anne asked, delighted.

She nodded. "Clara knows but I've sworn her to secrecy. Clara, you may tell Walter your news!"

"I'm going to be a big sister!" Clara said happily.

"Mama I wanna be a big brother, too," Walter demanded.

"I'm sorry Walter, no," Anne said with a shake of her head. "But I do have a surprise for you."

She took out the old roll that they'd just had developed and she handed them to Walter. Clara was very interested in the pictures and they sat on the floor looking at them. "This is my favorite chicken," he told her. "And this is a tree. And this is a duck but he's all fuzzy because he wouldn't be still for the picture. And this is my grandma and my grandpa, and this is-"

Walter stared at the picture, surprise on his face followed quickly by delight. "Look," he said. "Aunt Jane's mama and papa! How did they go in my camera?"

Anne smiled. "I went to take their picture, for a surprise."

"Thank you Mama," he said, joyful. He turned to Clara and announced, "They're my other grandma and grandpa."

Anne gaped at him. Couldn't Walter ever make his surprising announcements to her privately first? There'd been the 'my father is dead' and now this.

"Walter, they are _not_ your grandparents," Anne said quickly.

"Well they _could _be," he said. "Cuz I don't _got_ two like Clara and everybody else."

Anne sighed. She hoped she was not making a terrible mistake.

* * *

"Can we go see Aunt Jane's mama and papa before we go home? I wanna show them my pictures and my jellybean and my crayons."

"Yes, we can," Anne agreed. "But they're not your grandparents."

Walter decided to ignore Anne's message because the first thing he said to them was:

"You are _very_ _old_."

"_Walter_," Anne said, embarrassed.

"Old like my grandma and grandpa. _You_ can be grandma and grandpa too."

"Walter, _no_," Mrs. Andrews said quickly, an alarmed glance at Anne. "No, we couldn't. You're very sweet for thinking of it, darling! But...you've already got a grandma and grandpa, you don't need us-"

"You're supposed to have _four_," Walter told her. "You got your grandma and grandpa who's your _mama's_ mama and papa, _and_ you got your grandma and grandpa who's your _papa's_ mama and papa."

Mrs. Andrews was still looking at Anne, with an expression of regret. "I'm _sorry_, Anne, of course I _wouldn't_-"

Walter interrupted loudly: "I don't _got_ more grandma and grandpas because I don't got no _papa_. He's _dead_."

"_Walter_," Anne said again, blushing and hoping Mrs. Andrews wouldn't say anything to correct him from his belief.

"I'm sorry to hear that, dear," she murmured.

And that was all she said.

Anne was _about_ to tell Walter that he _would_ have a papa soon. Walter already knew that Gilbert and his mama were going to get married, but Anne didn't think he had yet connected that this would turn Gilbert into his father.

...But with a heart crushing thud, Anne realized she could not employ that piece of exciting news here- because Gilbert had no parents to offer up as a grandma or grandpa for Walter.

"You know what, Walter?" Mrs. Andrews said sweetly, "You don't need any extra grandparents because the grandparents you already have are so wonderful that they're enough all by themselves."

Anne, considering Mrs. Andrews, felt better about her. Not long ago, Mrs. Andrews would have fought for the title, maybe even recruiting Walter as a tool to argue her side.

Now, she was trying to talk Walter _out_ of it.

Anne knew that Mrs. Andrews was not balking at the title because she did not _want_ it. It was clear that the woman was delighted to think she might be _grandma_. But it seemed that she had resolved to put Anne's feelings ahead of her own desire to be close to Walter.

And this made Anne want to meet her halfway.

"We'll _think_ about it," she said as an offering. "Well go home and think about it some more."

Mrs. Andrews stared at her, shocked.

* * *

"Walter," Anne said as they walked home. "Why do you want to call them grandpa and grandma? Don't you think it would cause confusion? Why, if you said '_I talked to grandma',_ I wouldn't know who you meant! That seems a lot of silly trouble. It's better for everyone to keep the names they already have. If _Aunt Jane's Mama _is too cumbersome, _Mrs. Andrews _will do just as well."

"But I don't got no more grandma or grandpa and everybody else does," Walter pointed out.

"Not everyone does," Anne said carefully. "Sometimes people used to have grandparents but then they die. Gilbert's father might've been your grand-"

And she stopped because the thought made her want to cry. She swallowed and said, "Anyway, families are made up of all different kinds of people and not all families are alike."

"But I don't want all different people, _I want what everybody else has,"_ he said, seeming on the verge of a tantrum. "I don't got no extra grandparents _and_ I don't got no father _and_ I don't got no baby like Clara's going to have!"

Anne felt terrible. "You're _going_ to have a father," she reminded him, emotional. "When Christmas comes, remember? That's when the wedding will be…and then we'll move in with Gilbert and we'll be a mama and a papa and a child and it'll be just like everybody else."

"Can we have a new baby at home like Clara gets?"

Anne's eyes were wet. "No."

"Why not?" Walter demanded.

"Because we just can't," Anne whispered.

Walter stomped along.

"_Walter_," Anne stopped walking and picked him up, holding him close. "I love you so much. I'm sorry you feel different from everybody else. I felt different from everyone else too and I hated always being an...an _outsider_. Everybody had families and…"

Anne stopped talking and swallowed back her emotion. She found she could not let go of him, and so she held him the rest of the way home, even though he was growing up and getting too heavy for her to carry.

* * *

After dinner, Walter announced to Matthew and Marilla that he was going to have two grandmas and two grandpas- _just like Clara and Dennis and Rosalie!- _and Marilla was surprised.

Anne asked if Marilla minded. "I don't want you to feel slighted," she said, "and I hope you understand it isn't in any way _equal-_ you're the ones that are his _real_ grandparents."

Even though he'd just eaten dinner, Walter climbed on top of the kitchen counter for the box of Cracker Jacks.

"You just ate," Anne protested, pulling him down and taking the box away. "And no climbing."

"Walter, was this your own idea?" Marilla asked, worried this was something Mrs. Andrews had somehow put him up to. "Or did Aunt Jane's mama want you to say it?"

Walter shook his head and looked at the one piece of Cracker Jack he was left with since mama had taken the box just as he had put his hand in. After he put it in his mouth, he wiped his sticky hand down his clean white shirt, and said- with his mouth full- "She said you're a good enough grandma that I don't need her."

Marilla was satisfied with this answer.

But Walter, crunching on the Cracker Jacks, went on: "I said, '_You are very old. Just like my grandma and grandpa.'" _

Anne couldn't help laughing a little.

Marilla was indignant. She muttered to herself, "If he thinks _they're_ old, then he must think I have one foot in the grave!"

So far, Walter's only knowledge of graves came from Easter, when his Sunday School teacher told them that Jesus had risen from the grave. With sudden interest, he asked, "Did you know Jesus, Grandma?"

"Walter," Marilla asked_, "Exactly how old do you think I am?" _

Matthew and Anne laughed.

"At least a hundred," Walter said, thinking aloud.

Matthew laughed again, louder this time, and this caused Walter to laugh, too, although he didn't understand what was funny.

"I wouldn't laugh, Matthew. May I remind you that we are of the same generation?"

"I don't know what you mean, Marilla," Matthew said. "I'm still a spring chicken."

"A spring chicken, eh?" Marilla asked.

"I think you ought to go to bed now," Anne told him. "Come on."

"I don't wanna go to bed!" Walter demanded, ready to pitch a fit.

"Well, you're going to bed and that's a fact," Anne said firmly, standing up and taking him by the hand.

"Grandpa will tell you a story," Marilla promised, humor flickering in her eyes rather than showing in her smile. "About the time he built a great ship and filled it with animals because a flood was coming."


	203. The Next to Be Married

The surprise inside the Cracker Jack box was a ring.

Walter wore it around all day until Anne noticed it was sticky. "Walter...ugh. You can't just wear it straight out of the box. You're supposed to wash it off first."

She took the ring off him and made him wash his hands under the pump.

Getting her first close look at the ring, she practically rolled her eyes. It was made of dark red rubber and the top of the ring wasn't a pretend gem, it was just a seal showing the Cracker Jacks symbol.

_That's a real marketing endeavor, there,_ she thought. _It isn't a surprise gift- it's an advertisement children will wear on their fingers! Looking down at the ring will be a constant reminder to ask their mamas to buy more Cracker Jacks..._

Nevertheless, she washed it and gave it back to him.

"I'm going to give this to Clara," he said, putting it back on his finger. "Then we can get married."

Anne smiled.

"Well, don't get married too fast," she told him. "When you get married you move out and live together. And I want you to live with me and Gilbert for a while yet."

* * *

Anne didn't see Emily for a week. She was working on a baby gift for her.

When she finally did see her, it was because Marilla had decided to have the Perkins family over for dinner as a little celebration of their intended bundle of joy.

Emily was thrilled with the robin's egg blue knitted booties Anne had worked on.

"We're having chicken," Walter announced as Clara came in.

"Walter," Clara said primly, "It's bad manners to tell your guests what you'll be serving."

Chastened, Walter's face looked grumpy.

But as Gilbert entered, Walter passed the message along: "Don't talk about serving chicken 'cuz it's rude."

"It's rude to serve chicken?" Gilbert asked the little boy, bewildered.

Emily blushed. "I'm sorry- Clara's become very interested in the rules of etiquette lately, which ought to be a good thing, except she's taken to telling other people what to do. _Clara_," she said kneeling down to her daughter's face, "Just about the rudest thing _of all_ is to call attention to what other people are doing!"

Dinner with the Perkins, Matthew, Marilla, and Gilbert was lovely, but Anne noticed that a few different times Clara had shifting on the bench to try see her reflection in the cabinet glass, fluffing out her blonde curls and adjusting her bow in response to it. As Anne looked at Clara with her perfect hair and her fluffy lavender dress and her pristine white boots with pearl buttons, Anne got a sudden sense of deja vu and felt it was really Josie Pye she was looking at.

She shook herself out of that, telling herself that Clara was only five years old and had plenty of time to come to her senses about what mattered.

* * *

After supper Walter and Clara wandered around the backyard together.

Both couples couldn't help laughing when they saw Walter get down on one knee and hold the rubber Cracker Jack ring out to her.

"He was with us when you proposed," Anne said. "He's doing just what _you_ did, Gilbert!"

Gilbert slid his arm around Anne, wanting badly to kiss her but holding back since they were in the presence of company.

When the two tiny lovebirds returned to the house, Emily and her husband Arnold, finding the whole thing amusing, congratulated them on their engagement.

"We can get married on Christmas," Walter said. "That's when people get married."

"Walter, Gilbert and I are getting married on Christmas, so you'll have to pick another day," Anne told him, "Anyway summer weddings are usually how it's done."

"All right then, summer it is," Clara said, looking proudly at her Cracker Jack ring.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit," Emily told her.

"How long's a bit?" Walter asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Arnold said. "Not next summer. Maybe in twenty more summers."

Anne laughed. "That'll give you lots of time to plan the wedding."

* * *

"You know what's interesting about Clara?" Anne asked Gilbert as he was helping her with the dishes later. Anne was washing, and Gilbert was drying.

"What?" he asked, taking a pan lid from her.

"She never once asked to try his camera."

"Oh?" Gilbert asked, not knowing what this was about.

"You'd think she'd want to try it out; take some pictures! I know I would have! But she never even thought of being the photographer! Her only interest in photography was that she could have pictures taken of herself and how she would be pretty in them."

Gilbert laughed.

"That little girl could look into a mirror all day long and never get bored," Anne said with a sigh.

"That bad, eh?" Gilbert asked.

"Listen to this: Walter, why do you like Clara?"

Walter didn't look up from where he was lying on the rug, coloring with his new crayons. "She's pretty," he said.

Anne gave Gilbert a pointed look.

"I'm sure you like her for _other_ reasons," Gilbert coached.

"Sure I do," Walter said. "She's got a pretty smile."

"But that's still _looks_, Walter," Anne told him.

"Oh, Anne, they have fun together, they make each other laugh...maybe he doesn't know how to put it all into words and explain it."

"I guess you're right," Anne admitted. Walter and Clara played together happily. They got along well and that wasn't a result of their looks.

"Anyway, she isn't nasty about her appearance, is she? She seems nice enough to the children around her."

"Maybe but I hope she won't turn nasty about it when they're old enough to start school. If she's popular, I hope it's because she's kind and not because she's pretty!"

* * *

After Gilbert went home, Marilla called Anne into the parlor. "What is it, Marilla?" Anne asked, coming in.

Marilla held up her measuring tape. "I can't get started on your wedding gown until after I've measured you."

Anne's cheeks glowed. "I never thought I'd marry at all, much less have a mother to make my wedding gown!"

"I never expected I'd have a daughter to make a wedding gown _for_," Marilla replied.

"You're going to make a beautiful bride," she quietly murmured, pulling the measuring tape around Anne's shoulders. "Like something that came down out of the heavens."

"Why, _Marilla_," Anne cried, surprised.

Marilla blushed and set to work writing down her measurements. "Well, anyway, it'll fit proper and be good quality workmanship, that's the important part."

Anne grinned.


	204. The Facts of Life

*The Facts of Life*

**All right y'all, we are now beginning preparations for the wedding (!) **

**And this chapter is about….InTimAte rELaTiOnS. **

* * *

"It's called Called to Action at Christmas," Rachel said. "The Presbyterian Committee has challenged ministers to give up their comfortable Christmas at home to go on a mission trip."

"That's nice- though it leaves our church without anyone to lead Christmas services," Marilla pointed out.

"There's no sermon at the Christmas Eve service, anyway," Rachel pointed out. "It's only reading and singing, anyone can do that."

"That is true," Marilla thought, thinking that _Anne_ might enjoy doing some of the readings up in front of the congregation. _She'd certainly be dramatic enough to keep people interested! _She began, "I wonder if Anne-"

"What about me?" Anne asked curiously, coming down the stairs.

Rachel said brightly, "The reverend will be gone for Christmas and other people will be taking over the readings in the Christmas Eve service. You'd be an excellent reader, do you think you'd like to do it, Anne?"

"What do you mean, he'll be gone?" Anne asked, upset.

"Oh, dear," Marilla said, shaking her head. "I wasn't thinking."

"What? What is it?" Rachel asked, looking back and forth from Anne to Marilla.

"The wedding…" Marilla said, crushed. "The wedding was going to be at Christmas."

Rachel, unhappy with her, exclaimed, "You told me they were engaged, Marilla, but you didn't say the wedding was planned for _Christmas_."

Marilla nodded slowly. "Well, we haven't _started_ planning, really. They only _just_ got engaged. And there's still six months to go! Why, I never dreamed of the reverend not being here for Christmas!"

Anne looked ready to panic and Marilla said to her, "Now let's not get upset, just because he'll be gone for Christmas doesn't mean he'll be gone for weeks. He could do the wedding _before_ he leaves...when will he be leaving, Rachel?"

"December 20th," Rachel provided. "He's supposed to be at his mission five days before Christmas and stay for five days after."

Marilla said calmly to Anne, "See, now there's no reason for upset! He could do the wedding maybe on December 18th or 19th, if he doesn't mind. Or— you could wait till January 1st- that's a lovely idea, really, to start a new year with a wedding!"

But Anne was already shaking her head. "That won't work," she said, despondent. "That won't work at all. The whole reason we chose Christmas is so that our old school friends would be back in town! The girls can't get away before the 20th! And by new year's they'll have to travel back! Oh, Marilla, no one will be able to come!"

"You ought to wait till spring or summer," Rachel directed to Anne. "I've never heard of a wedding in December. I must say, Anne, you've strange notions, that's what! Now a _June_ wedding is so much more..._ordinary_."

"But we don't want to wait," Anne said pitifully.

"You've waited nearly five years, you can wait a few more months," Rachel waved that away. "Gilbert should be able to understand, a summer wedding-"

"_Gilbert's_ fine with waiting," Anne interrupted. "_I'm_ not."

She plopped down at the table with them as Rachel exchanged glances with Marilla.

"Well, the old reverend is still here," Rachel finally said. "He's retired, but he's still an ordained minister and there's no reason he can't perform the ceremony."

"But I don't like him," Anne said, moping.

"No one does," Marilla responded briskly, and then felt ashamed of herself or letting such a statement come out so easily.

Rachel looked shocked but Anne nearly burst out laughing.

"I beg your pardon, I can't imagine why I said such a thing," Marilla said, shaking her head at herself.

"You said it because it's true," Anne said. "He's mean, and I bet he'll refuse to marry us! He hates me."

"Fiddlesticks," Marilla said. "I'll get it arranged."

* * *

"It's rather ironic," the young reverend said, regretful as he spoke to Marilla. "When the call came out, the whole _reason_ I chose the orphan's home for my mission field was because of _Anne! _I kept thinking of how badly she was treated there, and I wanted to try to help make a happy Christmas for orphans like her. ...And now it means I've done her a disservice! Oh, I'm not sure I know how to remedy this, Miss Cuthbert- I can't go back on doing the mission, now."

"Of course not," Marilla said, sitting straight in her chair, clasping her purse in both hands. "And I do understand. Well, we still have the old reverend, I suppose. ...Really, we're fortunate to have _two_ ordained ministers in town- the wedding can go on regardless. I'm only sorry because Anne and Gilbert both think so highly of you."

"That's very kind," he said with a smile. "They're a lovely couple and I must stop over to congratulate them in person. ...I also wondered, Miss Cuthbert, if you think Anne might want to start teaching Sunday School again? No one's replaced her and the room is getting awfully crowded."

"I believe she would," Marilla said with a smile. "Come to think of it, there's nothing holding her back from it now."

"Gilbert told me things are changing between your family and the Andrews," he nodded in response. "It's an answer to many prayers, I'm sure."

Marilla agreed. "_Continued_ prayers requested, please," she added. "That they don't go back on what they've agreed to!"

"You know counseling is available, too," he added. "If it would help to bring in both parties involved and have a moderator of sorts to facilitate discussions."

"That's good to know- I hope we won't need it, that things can remain friendly between us."

Then she had a thought. "I've been meaning to ask Anne and Gilbert to go to you and inquire about marriage counseling. They've known each other for such a long time, but living together and managing a household as a family is quite different from being friends, and I thought it could be useful."

"I'll ask Gilbert if he wants to bring Anne in with him next time, then," the reverend said.

Marilla was surprised. "Next time?"

"He's been coming in once a week for a while, now," he said, equally surprised. "I thought you knew."

* * *

On the way home Marilla decided to stop by Gilbert's and let him know of the situation with the reverend.

"So it seems we'll have to ask the old one," she finished regretfully. "I'll stop by his house today too."

"I don't mind but I hate that for Anne," Gilbert said.

"I do, too," Marilla agreed. "You could wait- but you know how Anne feels and how long we've made you wait already."

Gilbert nodded. "I'm not concerned with _when_ we have the wedding, really. But...there is something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yes?" Marilla asked.

"I put tea on before you got here," he said, getting up.

While he was in the kitchen, Marilla noticed something on his coffee table.

_Gilbert's been reading about marriage, _she thought with a smile, seeing that the cover said What a Young Husband Ought to Know by Sylvanus Stall.

Once Gilbert was back with the tea, he began: "You know how it is- weddings in Avonlea- or maybe in any small town- you don't even need to send out invitations really, _everyone_ in town just shows up to watch the ceremony."

Marilla agreed. "There's not exactly much around here for excitement, is there? A wedding is something to do! ...But we _will_ need to send out invitations for the reception dinner afterward, otherwise we won't know how many guests to plan for."

Gilbert nodded slowly. "Right. But the trouble is, with Anne already...uh, it's not a _usual_ situation…" He trailed off, and Marilla filled in:

"Are you worried people won't _want_ to come to the wedding?"

"No, I'm worried people will only come out of _curiosity_," Gilbert admitted.

Marilla paused, thinking this over. Finally she nodded, troubled. Anne, with her checkered past and her out-of-wedlock child, might draw out townsfolk who simply wanted to know what kind of wedding she would have in order to gossip about her afterward.

Gilbert went on: "Diana was asking me about plans, and she- _reluctantly- _mentioned that if we get married in the church, and Anne has a white wedding, there'll be _talk_." He sighed. "And a veil...and bridesmaids...they're out of the question. She said she'd probably better leave Walter out of it, too; at a first wedding the 'polite' thing to do is to pretend a previous child doesn't exist."

He set his cup down on the coffee table. "Even if we don't care what people say, the reverend himself- the _old_ reverend, I mean- may not _allow_ certain things in the church. He might refuse to let Walter even be a part. Or he might shame Anne for her choice of dress, or...or anything, really."

He looked at Marilla's face, which was growing sadder and sadder, and he said, "Diana wasn't being unkind; she loves Anne and she's just so afraid that Anne's memories of her wedding are going to be ruined by gossip and judgement. There's nothing we can do to stop people from talking. ...And Anne's been through that enough, I don't want it on her wedding day."

Marilla's felt heartbroken. She wished things were simple; that her dear daughter could just have the kind of wedding she dreamed of and be done with it. But she knew that Diana had been right to worry. She didn't want Anne's special day blighted by such talk, either.

"There might not be such talk if she didn't have the wedding in the _church,_" she finally said, shaking her head. "If it was in the orchard perhaps, under the trees- oh, Anne would like that- and then only people we _invite_ could be there. But then, it's not the right time of year. And Anne was so _adamant_ that she wants to be married sooner than next spring."

"Then maybe it could be at Green Gables, but _in_side."

"Right in our parlor? Not many people would fit," Marilla considered.

"But we wouldn't invite many people," Gilbert answered. "Anyway, I think Anne would have more _freedom_ if we had the wedding at home."

"Freedom would be nice," Marilla said quietly, thinking of the wedding gown she had just measured Anne for. She hadn't been able to start the work because Anne kept going back and forth every day about whether or not townsfolk would be unkind to her if her dress was white. "Well, I'll mention it to her. I don't know if she even thought of having it at home."

Gilbert nodded. "I want Anne to have guests, not..._spectators."_

* * *

After Marilla left, Gilbert went back to reading his book. _What a Young Husband Ought to Know_, by Sylvanus Stall, was not very helpful, but he decided to finish reading it anyway. At least it was better than the other books he'd read.

Gilbert remembered when he'd asked the _older_ reverend about intimate relations. He'd started meeting with their old reverend often, under the guise of talking about religious matters, but really his end goal was to get up the courage to ask the older man some things about intimate relations that he didn't know yet.

When enough time had gone by that he finally felt ready to bring up the topic, the reverend had done nothing to ease his discomfort. The meeting hadn't gone well, and was their last:

"The thing is...I've been reading, and a lot of medical professionals seem to think that women can't experience any pleasure from intimate relations. Is that true?"

"I don't think so," the reverend assured him.

"Good," Gilbert breathed. "It bothered me, because I thought...if _she's_ not getting anything out of it, then aren't I just _using_ her for myself?"

"Well, I don't think it's true that women don't experience _any_ sensation, but they can't experience the same feelings men do; for them act is just for procreation. _Every_ woman's natural desire is to become a mother, of course- it is her only calling in life- and so it is believed that a woman's enjoyment of such intimacy is propelled by an innermost desire to have children."

Gilbert thought about this. He was embarrassed, but asked anyway: "Is there anything I can do to make it...more enjoyable...for her?"

"I would advise you, if she is feeling unwell," the reverend said, "that you not insist."

Gilbert nodded, waiting for him to go on.

But that seemed to be all the reverend had to say about it, and he was confused about why Gilbert was still waiting.

"Was that not helpful?" he finally asked.

Gilbert stared at him. "Not...insist?"

The reverend nodded.

Gilbert told him, "Well...I _already_ figured out _that_ part."

"There you go, then. You know what not to do."

"But...I thought there would be more to it," he explained.

The reverend stared back, flummoxed at the idea that there _could_ be any more to it.

Gilbert stood up to leave. "Thank you for your time," he said, without any warmth.

And so he had begun to read on his own, but the books he ordered were not very helpful either.

Finally he decided to go to the _new_ reverend, hoping that because he was younger and kinder, that things would be different.

Gilbert had been talking to Reverend Powell every week now, about a lot of random things that had to do with his future life- things about working and supporting a family, and other such topics- but never about intimate relations.

But just this past week, he'd finally brought up the topic, again with some trepidation.

"I've been reading a lot lately, and my trouble is that all the books advise men to _be_ _careful_," he told him.

"Be careful?" Reverend Powell asked, not knowing they were making the jump from generic marriage talk to the subject of intimacy.

"When being...intimate. To be careful," he explained. "The books say you can hurt her if you're not careful, especially when it's the first time you're doing that."

"Ah, I see," the reverend nodded. "That's a good reminder that intimacy for a woman is different from intimacy for a man."

"That's what the old reverend said," Gilbert sighed. "He said it can't feel as good for women and they only do it so they can have babies."

"Well, wait just a minute, I wouldn't say _that!_ If he thinks women don't experience anything from it, then I must say I feel very sorry for his wife!"

Gilbert laughed and felt some of the tension lift.

The reverend told him, "When I said it's different for women, I didn't mean they don't _feel_ it. What I meant was…" he trailed off as he thought about how to put it. "You know the way it works physically?"

"I know," Gilbert said, his face flushing.

"A woman is in a more vulnerable situation than a man, just due to the way that intimate relations work. I think it's good to remember that. It could be easy for a man to be thinking only of himself and not thinking of his wife's needs in the matter, and as a result he'll rush ahead while she isn't ready. He'll get a lot out of it and she'll end up feeling used. It should be enjoyable for _both_ people, and if it's not, then you need to change what you're doing. So, yes...be careful."

Gilbert was right when he'd suspected he would get better information from Reverend Powell than he'd gotten from the previous reverend.

"Be careful makes sense," Gilbert explained. "It's just that I already know I wouldn't want to do anything to rush her or hurt her. What I need to know is…"

He almost laughed, so uncomfortable.

"What is it, Gilbert?"

"How do I handle not being able to-" Gilbert stopped. Finally he said, "The thing is, Anne says she can't...do that."

"What did you say?"

"I told her she didn't have to. What else could I say?"

Reverend Powell nodded. "But now you're thinking realistically about it."

"I thought I could cope without it, but I'm not so sure. The closer we get, the worse it is! I don't know how we can live side by side like that."

"You could tell her you'd rather not live together until she can."

"No because I don't want her to feel like I only want to marry her if she can do _that_. I want her no matter what. And I don't want her to feel like there's a deadline, you know?"

"True."

"Yeah. So I figure we'll go ahead and get married now with the understanding that she doesn't need to worry about that aspect at all, and we can just live peacefully." Gilbert took a deep breath, and trying to sound more sure of himself, he said. "Eventually she'll feel differently, and then we'll be able to."

"You think so?"

"I _have_ to think so," Gilbert said miserably. "If I didn't, I'd go out of my mind."

Reverend Powell let out a little laugh and patted Gilbert on the back. "I don't envy you. But I think you're right not to put any pressure on her. It would hurt your relationship in the long run."

"Yes but now I'm stuck- I'll be living with her, sleeping _right next to her,_ and I don't know how to cope."

"Gilbert, have you ever thought of just...taking care of things yourself?" Reverend Powell asked after a moment. "Do you know what I mean by that?"

"I know- I mean, I have," he admitted. Then he laughed, a little embarrassed. "But...I try not to, when I can help it. Maybe it's silly but I feel like I'm cheating on her if I do that."

"Are you thinking of some other girl when you do it?" he asked.

"No," Gilbert answered quickly. "I don't want anybody but Anne."

"Then you're not cheating on her," he said easily. "And it seems for the time being that that's _all_ you can do. Now I could tell you that being married you can expect to have intimate relations, but I'm not going to do that. I think you're absolutely right that you're going to have to be patient and wait for her to feel comfortable with the idea. Slow and steady wins the race."

"That's what I thought. But then sometimes I think, what if she _never_ feels that way?" Gilbert asked dully.

"Maybe there's something that can be done to help her...I'm not sure _what_, to be honest. But do what you're already doing, not pressuring her; maybe all it will take is time living together and she'll start to feel differently. ...And until then, you have your own way of alleviating those feelings, without her."

"Does the church consider that a sin?" Gilbert wondered.

Reverend Powell answered, "There isn't anything in the Bible about it. There _is_ a part about not giving in to sexual immorality, but I don't think that's what you're doing. Especially if you're married to the woman you're thinking of."

* * *

Marilla told Anne how nice it would be to get married at Green Gables.

"I heard long ago that a house wasn't consecrated until it had had a birth, a wedding, and a death. We've had death enough, and once we even had a baby born here. But we've never had a wedding."

Anne sat staring at her. Finally she said, "I suppose we _could _have it right here." She looked around the room.

She loved her home, but as she looked around, she made the decision that it did not make for a good venue. She sighed. "I _would_ like to get married here at Green Gables if we could have it under the _trees_."

"But-"

"Yes, yes, I know, it isn't the right time of year for that!" Anne repeated what she'd been told a million times.

Marilla breathed out helplessly. "Then let's plan for it to be here, _indoors_."

But Anne shook her head at this. "If the wedding can't be outdoors then I'd rather have it in the church. There's a big stained glass window, remember. Stained glass will make up for it not being under the trees."

Marilla said carefully, "I think you would have more _choices_, Anne, if you had it a home. You keep going back and forth about your _dress_, and-"

"Oh, I've settled that!" Anne exclaimed. "I want ivory, and not because I think I can't wear white! I read in _Bridal Year _that ivory looks best on redheads."

_Good_, Marilla thought. _Then I won't have to worry about your special day being spoiled by gossip._

* * *

Now that Anne had decided on a color, Marilla was able to really begin her work.

She couldn't help but think back to the very first dress she had ever sewn for Anne, and smiled with amusement over the contrast between that dress and this one.

_She'll have to turn sideways to come through the door, _she thought to herself as she began the sleeves.

* * *

"You said we can go see Clara. Why are we going to town?" Walter asked, trailing behind Anne.

Anne looked down at him. "Those things Clara had for drawing? What are they called again? You broke them, so we should bring her new ones."

"Crayons," Walter supplied. "And I didn't break them. She broke them herself."

"Well, anyway, she was drawing pictures with nice new crayons when we got there, and all the crayons were broken when we left. So we're getting her new ones."

Once at Emily's house, Anne made Walter give Clara the new crayons, and the two went into the kitchen to color together.

"Now that you're marrying," Emily said after the children had gone, "I thought I'd pass this along to you. It may be useful." She moved a few things out of the way to reach into the dark recesses of her cabinet and pulled out a small book.

"Thank you," Anne said, looking at the cover. "Are you sure you don't need it? I have a health book at home already."

Emily lowered her voice. "Yes, but there are some things in here that…well, I'll just show you."

She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for, and then turned it back to Anne.

Anne stared at the illustration on the page.

"It's so you won't have babies before you want them. That's why _we_ haven't had any after Clara. We were able to wait until we wanted another."

When Anne didn't respond, Emily went on:

"They're made from the intestines of cows, and sometimes from the bladders of sheep. You wash it after each use, but they have a new kind out now, that's made of rubber, and they're saying the rubber kind should be thrown out after a single use. I suppose because its harder to see if it's gotten any holes in it and if it has then it won't be very effective at preventing pregnancy at all. But anyway it's very simple. It's just put on right before."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Anne breathed. "I wonder if it's safe?"

"It doesn't hurt," Emily said. "It doesn't feel exactly the same as it does without it, but we both think it's worth it."

"I don't know. I don't think..." Anne bit her lip, still staring at the page.

"You think Gilbert would object?" Emily guessed. "Arnold and I talked to the reverend about it first, before we started using them, and he told us there isn't anything in the bible that says it's wrong to avoid becoming pregnant. And I'm glad, because things are much nicer this way- you can enjoy all the intimate relations you want together without babies coming too quickly!"

Anne sank down onto the arm of the chair behind her. "I don't think Gilbert would object...it's more...oh, Emily, I kind of have the opposite problem! I _want_ the babies, just not the intimate relations!"

"Oh," Emily said, surprised. "I'm not sure what to do about that!"

Anne sighed. "I wouldn't want too many babies all at once, but we aren't even in a place where we have to worry about that! We'll be lucky to have just one!"

"Does Gilbert know how you feel?" Emily asked gently. "I think that's something he needs to know before…"

"He knows," Anne said sadly. "And the kinder he is, the more it hurts. He loves me so much and I wish things were different for him!"

"I know your experience was terrible," Emily began hesitantly. "But I really think things will be different once you're married. You and Gilbert _love_ each other. Love was not part of your experience before, and Anne, love truly does make everything so different."

"I just don't see how," Anne whispered, shaking her head. "It's the same act. Happening to your body. And I don't think I can _let_ it happen. I have to stop it from happening. At least with Gilbert I don't have to try to stop him, he just won't do it to me at all."

Emily slid her arm around Anne and pulled her close. "Maybe it's better if you don't consider it to be intimate relations. I mean, don't put a _label_ on it...maybe it's better to just let yourself get as close as you feel like and let things progress naturally. Why, I was nervous on my wedding night, and Arnold was too. We both felt so terribly awkward, we didn't even want to undress in front of each other! Finally Arnold said, '_Emily, let's pretend we're just saying goodnight the way we always do in the evenings' _and Anne it was the perfect thing. We kissed the way we usually did, as if Arnold was just dropping me off after a dance. And of course every time we kissed we always had to...to _limit_ ourselves, because we weren't married. But this was the first time we didn't _have_ to! Once we kissed, we just kept right on kissing, and, well, things just happened from there. I think what took the pressure off was that we weren't labeling it as something we had to do."

Anne thought about this. "I do _like_ kissing Gilbert."

Emily laughed, and Anne looked up at her in surprise, and laughed too.

"So...yeah, maybe if we just _kiss_ and things happen from there...but oh, what if I panic? I'm not sure I can keep from panicking."

Emily just squeezed her close. She wished she had better answers for her young friend, but all she could provide was a listening ear and an earnest promise that it would work out in the end.

* * *

Anne did not need to worry that the older reverend would refuse to marry them.

He made it abundantly clear to Marilla, when she came to call, that he was glad to see Anne finally doing what she should have done before her baby came in the first place.

* * *

While Anne and Gilbert were each seeking wisdom from their chosen mentors, Walter was coming up with questions of his own.

"Where do babies come from, mama?" he asked suddenly while Anne and Gilbert were having a picnic lunch.

"Why do you want to know that?" Anne asked, rather startled by the question.

"Clara's Mama is getting a new baby and I wanna know where it's gonna come from."

When Anne did not respond, he pressed again: "Where _do_ babies come from, mama?"

"No one knows," Anne said flatly.

Gilbert looked at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"_No one knows?" _Walter repeated. "There's got to be somebody somewhere who knows. I'll start asking everybody and-"

"No!" Anne said quickly. "Don't ask people!"

"You can't find stuff out if you don't ask questions," Walter pointed out sensibly.

Anne bit her lip.

"How'd you get _me_, mama?"

"Let's talk about that some other time, Walt," Gilbert said in an easy going voice, finally stepping in since Anne had made clear she did not want Walter's questions answered. "I was hoping you could tell me what your class learned about in Sunday School this week."

"Sunday School is boring; I wanna know about _babies_. Where'd I come from?"

"Well," Anne said carefully. "A lot of people tell very interesting stories about where babies come from. Some stories say the stork brings babies to houses where mamas and papas live. And some stories say that babies grow out of cabbage patches and are plucked up and taken home. And other stories say that when a mama wants a baby she makes a wish, like on a wishing star or a candle, and-"

"Did you make a wish for me?" Walter asked, his little face delighted.

Anne hesitated.

"Or did you grow me in the garden? Or did the big bird drop me here?"

"Neither," Gilbert said, stepping in again. "Mama went all the way to New Brunswick to bring you home. Anne, let's tell him about New Brunswick, eh?"

This helped.

Anne told Walter all about the the city, with its bustling noise and traffic from streetcars with their horns and all the people living on top of each other in flats and row houses- and eventually Walter's curiosity of where babies came from was lost amid interesting tidbits of city life.

Later, when he was much older, this entire conversation would be forgotten. He would not remember that he'd been told he came from a hospital in New Brunswick at all.

But his question, along with many others regarding the circumstances of his birth, would not stay suppressed for long. There would come a time when Walter himself would make some realizations about his appearance, and his parents would have to tell him the truth about who he came from.


	205. Now and Then

im sorry its short but i figured _something_ was better than nothing? its just a bit of wedding talk...and a snippet of their future life. More next time! im sorry.

* * *

"I'm just stopping by to let you know that Walter won't be able to come over to our house during the weekend," Mrs. Andrews said gently. "But Monday should be all right, if Walter would like to come then."

She did not elaborate.

Anne nodded. "Good. Thank you for letting me know."

After she'd gone, Marilla wanted to know why she'd come.

"They're having B...their son...visit this weekend," Anne began, not saying the name because Walter trailed in after Marilla. "When we talked about...boundaries. I told them they had to let me know when they'd be having...a _visitor_. I want to know, because I don't want to risk running into him. Not with Walter."

"I'm glad she seems to be trying to keep her word," Marilla said. "That's encouraging."

"She told me, back when we talked about all this, that he won't be going into town or attending church while he's here. But I think just to be certain I'll stay home. Walter won't go to church this weekend either...I just have to be...careful."

"Well," Marilla responded, "I hate for Walter to miss church, but I agree it's for the best, just in case they don't keep their word."

"No church?" Walter asked, delighted.

He liked church because it was something to do, a diversion from every day life, and he got to see his friends there. But he did not like the way mama fussed over his clothes and hair before they left, and he did not like his Sunday school class, because he found it boring. He preferred last year, when he was still young enough to be in the nursery- that was just play time. Now that he was four and in Sunday school, he had to listen and try to remember things.

"No church this week," Anne told him brightly. "But we'll go see your friends so you can still play with them. All right? Rosalie is away visiting her grandmother, but you can see Dennis. And maybe we'll go see some of the others."

"And Clara?" Walter asked.

"Of course Clara; you always see Clara."

"Clara's my favorite," Walter said. "We're going to get married."

"Yes, yes, I know," Anne said with a laugh.

"Walter, show your mama what you showed me," Marilla encouraged.

Walter came over and grabbed his mama's hands.

Anne, curious, waited to see what he was going to do.

"Clara's papa said we can get married in summer. But not _next_ summer, he said we have to wait for maybe twenty more summers. ...I asked grandma how many twenty was."

Anne sank to the floor as Walter slowly began counting on his fingers.

"One, two, three, four ," he said easily. Then he slowed down. "Five...six...seven. Eight…nine. Ten."

Anne was happy, but Walter wasn't finished: "Grandma said that's half of twenty. Now look." Walter took Anne's hands, and continued counting. "Eleven...twelve," he said as he tapped on her fingers.

But then he got stuck.

"Thirteen," Marilla softly coached.

"Thirteen. Four...teen. Fifteen…" Walter tapped on Anne's fingers as he slowly made his way to twenty.

"That's a lot of years," he said in dismay when he'd finished.

But Anne's eyes were shining. She pulled him to her to hug him in congratulations of his counting all the way to twenty.

"It is a lot of years," she agreed, kissing him. "But I'm glad. I don't want you moving away and leaving me any sooner than you have to. I'd miss you too much."

Marilla's eyes were dewy at the sight before her, but she cleared her throat and said brightly, "Walter, your mama thought Clara might like to be her flower girl."

"What's a flower girl?" he asked.

"A flower girl," Anne began, still with her child in her arms, "walks with the ring bearer. The ring bearer carries the wedding ring on a little pillow and the flower girl carries a basket of rose petals. Do you think you and Clara would want to do that? ...They're very, very important jobs."

"We can do important jobs," Walter said happily.

"I know," Anne told him, liking how little he felt in her arms and not wanting him to get any bigger.

"Grandma and I are going to make you a real suit for the wedding," Anne told him.

"A suit like Gilber?!" Walter asked, thrilled with anything that had to do with being like his hero.

"Mmmhmm, and we'll make Clara a pretty dress, too," Anne said.

"We can save them too so we can wear them at our wedding," was Walter's bright idea.

Marilla laughed a bit. "You'll be too big to wear them by that time."

* * *

After clearing it with Emily and getting Clara's measurements from her, Marilla and Anne began working on her dress, too.

"It has to be ivory, not white- cut from the same bolt- or it won't match mine," Anne said. "Oh, this satin is so beautiful I hate to cut it up!"

But cut they did.

"I realize we already started on your dress, Anne, but...are you sure you don't want white? You talked about it for _so_ long…"

Anne bit her lip. "Ivory is pretty, too. Besides, I read in _Bridal Year _that ivory looks good on redheads…"

"Yes, I know, you told me that, but I couldn't help worrying...I want you to have what you really _want_."

Anne did not want to tell Marilla that the truth was a mingling of ideas. She really did read that ivory looked best on redheads, but she still held a small fear that people would be unkind to her about her wedding, and she did not want Marilla to provide the ammunition by making the dress. Marilla would be working so hard, for so long, on that dress, and Anne worried that if there was talk about the dress being inappropriate, her dear Marilla would feel awful. It was better for Marilla to make a dress that people would admire and talk positively about, than to spend weeks on a dress that would be ridiculed.

"Well, after we get the pieces cut out for Clara's dress, I want to check the sleeves on yours," Marilla went on.

"Oh, did you start the sleeves?" Anne asked, excited.

"Yes, but I think they'll need to be bigger," Marilla said, snipping away at the pieces of Clara's dress.

"_Bigger?_" Anne asked, dumbstruck. "Are you making big sleeves?"

"I am."

"_Puffed_ sleeves?"

"I believe that _is_ the name for them, isn't it?" Marilla finally looked up and saw Anne's face. "Well, you didn't think I could make your wedding gown with _ordinary_ sleeves, did you? They are quite hefty puffs already, but I'd like to put them on you and see- we might want to make them bigger."

Anne forgot about the difference between white and ivory.

* * *

Years later, Anne happened to glance out the window of the Blythe's home one evening after they'd finished their supper.

"Walter, Clara's coming up the walk," she said. "Tell her she'll have to wait until you've finished the dishes."

Walter set down the dish cloth. "I'll wash them later," he said, leaving the room in a mad dash for the front door.

Anne followed him. "Walter!"

Walter heaved a sigh as he yanked open the front door.

"I have to wash the dishes," he said as a greeting, without saying hello.

Clara just made a face. "That's a girl chore."

"You know what mum and I say about that," Gilbert said as he came to the doorway where they stood.

Walter chanted tiredly what he'd been told many times: "There aren't girl chores and boy chores, there's just chores done by whoever can do them."

Then he said under his breath: "But Clara's right, it's a girl chore."

Gilbert told his son, "If a boy can eat off a plate, then surely he can wash that plate."

Clara looked back and forth between them. "I'll come back later," she said. "Unless I can come in now?"

"Come on in, Walt won't be more than a few minutes," Gilbert said. He stepped back to allow Clara into the parlor.

As Walter sauntered off to the kitchen, annoyed, Gilbert called after him: "Cheer up- it's not as if you have to dry them too. You're taking turns, after all."

"At my house," Clara announced, "We don't take turns doing dishes. I help Mother with them because they're girl things and my brother does the boy stuff."

"Girls can do the same things boys can do," Anne said, not wanting Clara to influence Walter. "What if suddenly there were NO boys in the world?"

"I wouldn't like that world," Clara said with a shake of her head. "There'd be no point in going to dances."

Anne did not respond to this.

Only a few minutes later Walter was back. "All right, they're all washed! Can we go now?"

"Where are you going?" Gilbert asked them.

"Rowing at the pond," Clara said sweetly.

Gilbert nodded. "Sure. You only have about three hours, I want you home before dark."

When they'd left, Anne touched Gilbert's shoulder. "Do you think we ought to let them go off alone so much? I didn't mind it when they were little, but now that they're getting older I worry. People might start talking and...you know what kind of _talk_ I mean. it isn't going to be good for either one of them..."

Before Gilbert could answer, there was a shriek from the kitchen.

Anne and Gilbert would have rushed into the kitchen to see what was the matter, but there was no need; the message was delivered to them by way of a shout:

"Walter said the plates were ready for me to dry, but I _can't_ dry them! He didn't _wash_ them at all! There's _gobs of food all over them!"_

"Well," Gilbert said quietly to Anne, pulling her close, "I think tomorrow Walter can handle the washing _and_ the drying, and give his sister the night off."


End file.
